Somewhere in the Middle
by cindy123
Summary: Something is terribly wrong.  Will Sam survive?  Will Dean forgive himself?  Will John be able to hold them all together?  Seriously hurt/Sam; Seriously guilty/Dean; Seriously worried/John.  Written for Sparkie.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone! Yep, its a new story. I know...what about the other two stories? I am working on them...I promise. I'm having a hard time with them though...I admit it. This story was written especially for Sparkie for her birthday and is complete. I will post every three days or so. I hope maybe this makes up for the lack of timely updates on the other two. This story is written partially from an idea by Sparkies dear friend. It's different...and dark. I hope you like it.**

**Sam Winchester (age 16)**

**Dean Winchester (age 21)**

**John Winchester (age unknown)**

**Disclaimer: Not mine...don't own them...no money made here.**

**Somewhere In the Middle**

**Chapter 1 - Wichita**

_**February, 2000**_

Dean shivered as he followed behind his father and brother, the dry leaves crunching under his boots as he walked quickly away from the site of their most recent hunt. The witch's house stood stark and eerie behind the three hunters as they quickly made their way back to their waiting vehicles. It had been a hard won battle, but in the end, they had killed the witch, bringing to an end her horrible hold over Wichita. None of them had suffered any serious injuries, a bruise here and there, but that was about it. Still, Dean couldn't shake the feeling that they had gotten off pretty easy considering how strong this particular witch had been. His eyes wandered to his brother, the teen huddled within his too worn coat, body shaking worse than Dean's as the cold winter wind blew over them. Sam had done good on the hunt, impressing both John and Dean as he had been the one who had made the fatal hit on the witch. He had charged her without any outward fear and buried the blessed knife deep into her chest, piercing her heart and ending her reign of terror. She had died spewing gibberish that none of them could understand, but had sent a shiver down Dean's spine none-the-less. She had burned fast and hot, the only thing left of her at the end being a pile of ashes. The ashes had been soaked in holy water and rosemary then buried with a rosary just to be safe. _'Good riddance,' _Dean thought as he glanced over his shoulder at the house before turning and hurrying to catch up to his family.

The three hunters reached their vehicles within a few minutes and they were soon on the road back to the edge of town and the motel they had called home for the past two months. Tonight would be their last night in Wichita and Dean couldn't wait to get out of town. He glanced over at Sam in the passenger seat and smiled. The kid looked tired as hell, but he had a grin on his face when he turned his head and met Dean's eyes. Dean felt a sudden, unexpected jolt of anger at the teen, but he pushed it aside, presuming it was his own exhaustion getting the better of him.

"You did good tonight, Sammy…really good," Dean forced out as he returned Sam's grin.

"Yeah? I did…really?" Sam asked coyly.

"Yeah…you did. You had your first kill, kiddo and it wasn't an easy one. I'm proud of you…so is Dad," Dean answered truthfully.

"Thanks, Dean," Sam said softly as he turned his head back around and stared out the windshield at the large truck ahead of them. He smiled at the thought that his dad was proud. It wasn't something that happened often, if at all, so he would bask in it for as long as he could.

Sam remained quiet for a few minutes, but the excitement of the evening and the fact that he'd done his family proud finally got the best of him and he began to chatter non-stop about the hunt, beginning with the research and on into the actual hunt. Dean listened with a slight grin as Sam rambled on, but after ten minutes he began to feel irritated. He tried to quell the irritation, but it continued to grow until an almost overwhelming feeling of anger swelled inside of him. When Sam launched into a depiction of the witch's face when the blessed knife pierced her heart, Dean had had enough.

"Dammit, Sam! I was there, remember? I saw her face! I already told you I was proud, what more do you want from me!" Dean snapped before his eyes widened in surprise at what had come out of his mouth.

"I…I'm sorry, Dean. I was just…I…I'm sorry," Sam whispered as he turned away so his brother wouldn't see the tears that had begun to well in his eyes.

"Sammy, I…"

"It's okay…I understand." Sam quickly wiped at the tears and leaned his head against the cool passenger window. He squeezed his eyes shut when Dean reached across the bench seat and nudged his shoulder.

"Sam…I'm really sorry. I don't know why I said that. I guess I'm just tired," Dean explained, though he really couldn't fathom why he had blown up at his brother. The kid was understandably excited and Dean had shot him down with his tirade.

Sam turned to face Dean and smiled shyly. "It's okay, Dean. I know you're tired. I shouldn't have been yakking your ear off…"

"No, Sam…you should have. Man, my first kill? Dad couldn't have shut me up even if he'd tried. You have a right to be excited. I had no right to talk to you like that," Dean interrupted. "So, are you okay? Are we good?" he added as he glanced over at his brother.

"Yeah…of course. Don't worry about it," Sam answered softly.

Dean nodded his head then moved his eyes back to the road ahead. "Good…thanks," he said.

The rest of the trip back to the motel was spent in silence and even though Sam had said he was okay, Dean could tell by his silence that he was still hurt. He couldn't blame the kid. Dean knew his acceptance and approval were the most important thing to Sam…more important than having friends and being normal. The older brother felt awful, but if he brought it up again, Sam would deny that he was upset and would clam up even more, possibly not speaking for days. Dean decided the best thing to do was to not say anymore about the incident and let Sam's hurt feelings heal on their own. He'd for sure make things up to his little brother in a way that Sam wouldn't know he was making things up to him. They pulled into the motel parking lot and took the parking spot next to John's truck. Sam glanced over at Dean before pushing open his door and exiting the car. Dean sighed as he heaved his own door open. The three hunters entered their small room, Sam immediately collapsing back onto his and Dean's bed with a groan.

"How you doing there, kiddo?" John asked as he glanced down at his youngest son, a hint of concern in his voice. "You didn't get hurt did you?"

That got Dean's attention and he whipped his head around from where he was emptying his weapons bag and stared at his brother. Sam didn't seem to be hurt when they left the witch's house, but the kid was notorious for keeping injuries a secret.

"No, Dad…I'm okay," Sam answered as he sat up, Dean now suspiciously eyeing his every move. "I'm just a little sore and a lot tired."

"You're sure, Sammy? You got tossed around a bit, just like Dean and I. I want to know if you were injured," John said sternly.

Sam glanced up at his father and smiled sheepishly. "I learned my lesson, Dad. No more hiding injuries. I'm fine…really," he said in reply.

John watched his youngest for a few moments then decided that he saw no dishonesty in the teen's eyes. Sam was most likely sore and tired, just like he'd explained. Probably just like he himself felt, and most likely Dean also. "Okay, squirt…why don't you hit the shower then get some rest," he said as he affectionately ruffled Sam's hair.

"Okay, Dad," Sam said as he stood and headed for the bathroom, stopping long enough to pick up his sleep clothes from the floor beside the bed.

Dean watched Sam enter the bathroom and close the door, his hands fisting at his sides as intense anger suddenly enveloped him. _'Why does that whiny little bitch get to shower before me!' _he thought before sharp pain in his palms snapped him out of h thoughts. He looked down and opened up his hands to find he had pierced his skin with his fingernails. "What the hell is wrong with me?" he whispered under his breath, not understanding the anger at Sam that kept coming and going.

"Did you say something, Dean?" John asked as he glanced over at his eldest son.

"Uh, no…just talking to myself," Dean answered.

"Huh. Well, as soon as Sammy gets out of the shower, you can get in. We need to rest up tonight so we can hit the road early. I'd like to put this hunt behind us as quickly as possible," John said.

"Yes, sir. Where we headed to next?" Dean asked.

"No place in particular. I was thinking we could use a little down time for awhile. Was thinking of heading to Bobby's. Sam would love to bury himself in Bobby's books and I figured it would be a good reward for his first kill," John answered. "Plus, you'd get to help the old duffer with his cars," John added with a tired smile.

"Oh…yeah…that sounds good," Dean said. He turned away from John and narrowed his eyes. He'd never gotten a reward for his first kill so what made Sam so special? The kid was whiny and bratty most of time and certainly didn't deserve to be rewarded for killing a witch that any pre-schooler could have killed. Dean peeled off his clothes and picked his sleep pants and tee shirt up from the bed. He quickly dressed and climbed under the covers of the bed.

"You're not going to shower?" John asked curiously.

Dean curled his lip then turned toward his father. "Naw…I'll do it in the morning. I'm really tired," he answered, his voice hiding the anger building inside him.

"Okay, but we need to hit the road early so we can get to Bobby's," John said.

"I'll be up early, Dad…don't worry," Dean said shortly before turning back onto his side.

"Everything okay with you, son?" John asked as he moved to the side of Dean's bed.

"Yeah…I'm fine. Why do you ask?" Dean answered without looking back up.

"You seem a little off. Anything you want to talk about?"

"I'm just tired, Dad. It's been a long night."

John shook his head before sitting down on his own bed. "Okay then, get some sleep," he said as he leaned over to remove his boots.

Dean pulled the blanket up over his shoulder and closed his eyes, the young man seething as he thought about all the ways John put Sam ahead of him. His thoughts continued down a dark path the longer he dwelled on them, the young man unable to stop them as the flood gates opened. It seemed all his father could think about was watching out for the brat. Keep Sam safe above all else. What about him? Why was it always Sam that had to be kept safe? Wasn't he as important? Didn't his safety matter to his father? He couldn't understand why John cared so much for the little freak. It was Sam's fault after all that they had to live this life. Dean's mother had died in Sam's nursery, had most likely died because of the ungrateful little bastard and all the kid worried about was having a normal life. Little dickhead only cared about himself and what he wanted. Well, what about what Dean wanted? What about his dreams and aspirations?

"We'd be so much better off without that little f***er," Dean whispered venomously under his breath.

"What was that, Dean?" John asked and Dean had to take a deep breath to keep from blowing his top completely.

"Nothing, Dad," Dean answered as he pulled the covers up higher over his shoulder.

"Yeah…sure. Look, I'm gonna pop out for a bit. I want to pick up a few things for the road trip tomorrow plus I just can't shake that we missed something at that house. I'm going to drive back there and just make sure we covered all the bases," John said.

"Yeah…fine. I'll be here," Dean replied shortly.

"Uh…okay. Watch out for your brother. I'm still not convinced he's completely okay," John instructed as he pulled his boots back on and stood up from his bed.

"Yeah…I'll watch out for Sam…just like I always do," Dean said, the young barely able to keep the venom out of his voice.

"Dean, what the hell is going on with you? Are you mad at Sam for some reason?" John asked, the man suddenly wary of leaving his sons, even for the short time he planned on being gone.

Dean reeled in his anger and rolled over to face his father. "I'm fine, Dad. I'm just really frickin' tired. What would I be mad at Sam for? He was the hero tonight," he answered.

"He did good. He's really coming around, but Dean…you did damn good tonight too. I'm proud of both you boys…not just Sam," John said.

Dean sighed, the anger lessening just a little as he looked up at his father's sincere eyes. "Yeah…I know, Dad. I'm sorry…I'm just really tired for some reason. A good night sleep and I'll be rip roaring to go tomorrow," he said in reply.

John considered Dean's words and finally nodded. "Okay…if you're sure. I won't be gone long…two hours at the most," he said.

"Sounds good, Dad…and you know I'll watch out for Sammy."

"Yeah, I know you will."

John gave Dean one last look then turned and walked to the door. Once the door shut behind him, Dean shook his head and rolled back over onto his side, his back to the rest of the room. He closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep before Sam came out of the bathroom. He had no desire to talk to the teen. In fact, he was almost afraid that if Sam said one word to him, he might just come unglued and clock the kid. He was suddenly very thankful that Sam enjoyed long, drawn out showers. It would give him a chance to fall asleep and avoid any contact with the kid. He forced all thoughts of Sam out of his mind and let the exhaustion he felt pull him under, his breathing evening out within a few minutes. He was sound asleep for several minutes before the bathroom door opened and Sam stepped out, his hazel eyes sweeping over the room before settling on his brother's form in the bed.

Sam almost called out to his brother to ask where their father had gone, but the sound of Deans soft snores made him stop. Dean was tired and needed his sleep. John had probably left to find a bar to swallow down a nightcap or two. Sam shrugged as he made his way between the two beds and climbed in next to his brother then reached up and turned off the light. He was careful not to pull the blankets off of Dean as he curled into their warmth and closed his eyes. He felt like he could sleep for a week, but knew they would probably be rising early just like John liked it. He was just about asleep when Dean began to mumble and groan in his sleep, his body twitching slightly at whatever dream played through his slumbering mind. Sam smiled softly to himself until the light mumbles and groans intensified and the twitching gave way to light thrashing.

Sam pushed his covers off and rolled over then pushed up onto his knees. He reached for Dean's arm and shook it gently. "Dean…wake up. Come on…wake up!" Sam called as the thrashing increased. "Dean! Wake up!"

Dean's thrashing stopped and slowly his green eyes opened and stared up at Sam. "Sam?" he whispered hoarsely.

Sam sat back on his heels and smiled. "You were having a nightmare…a pretty bad one by the way you were thrashing around," he said, his face illuminated by the moonlight that filtered into the room from the window on the back wall.

"Yeah…it was bad," Dean hissed as he slowly sat up, eyes narrowing on his little brother.

"Dean? Wh-what's wrong?" Sam asked as he clearly heard the malice in his brother's voice. He never even had a chance…never saw Dean's fist before it plowed into his face with bone crushing force.

**Well, that's the first chapter. What do you think? So, I know I said every three days or so, but I will be camping next week and am not sure if I'll have a signal for internet. I'll post this weekend for sure. Thanks all :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**_Wow...just...wow. I'm overwhelmed by the response to this story. Really, really overwhelmed. Thank you so much for all of the wonderful comments...you guys are the best! And because you are the best, I'm posting this a day early! Yay! So, this chapter is...well...a bit dark and has some bad language. Anyway...I'll let you get to it._**

**_Cindy_**

_Dean? Wh-what's wrong?" Sam asked as he clearly heard the malice in his brother's voice. He never even had a chance…never saw Dean's fist before it plowed into his face with bone crushing force._

**Chapter 2 – Hurting Sammy**

Sam flew backwards with the force of the punch, his back hitting the edge of the other bed before his body dropped with a soft thud to the shag carpeted floor. Before he had a chance to even fathom what was going on, Dean was above him, pulling him to his feet. He reached up and gripped Dean's wrists as he forced into the center of the room, his brother's rage filled face inches from his own.

"D-Dean…what…I…" Sam stammered, the taste of copper on his tongue nearly gagging him.

"Shut the fuck up, Sam! I'm so tired of hearing your whiny fucking voice! Always have something to say don't you!" Dean screamed, unconcerned about anybody hearing him as the motel was empty save for them and they were located in the room farthest removed from the office.

"Dean…"

Sam was suddenly and violently slammed into a wall, his head pounding against the wall, his vision swimming as consciousness threatened to abandon him. "I said shut up! You don't speak! You have no right!" Dean screamed again as he pulled Sam away from the wall only to slam him back against it. "All these years I've taken care of you, watched out for you and for what? You don't appreciate anything! All you care about is yourself! You don't even care that Mom died because of you!"

Sam's eyes widened as he stared weakly into Dean's furious face. "No…don't say that, Dean…please, don't say that," he whispered brokenly.

"It's your fault, Sam! All your fault! You screwed everything up! I wish you'd never been born!" Dean shrieked before dragging Sam away from the wall and literally throwing his lighter frame across the room.

Sam hit the door of the room, the knob crushing cruelly into his ribcage, breaking two ribs with the force of the hit. He landed on the floor on his stomach and though all he wanted to do was close his eyes to escape this nightmare, he knew he had to get away. He couldn't fight Dean. His brother was bigger and stronger and though he was well on his way to catching up to Dean in height, he was far behind in muscularity. Sam pushed weakly up with his arms and began to crawl toward the bathroom, the teen hoping to barricade himself inside until his father returned. He yelled out in surprise when a strong hand wrapped around one ankle and pulled him back.

"No…please!" he cried as he rolled over and kicked out with the other foot, catching Dean in the chest.

Dean's lip curled into a vicious snarl as he dropped Sam's leg and stood to full height. "You're going to regret that little brother," he hissed before lunging forward and yanking Sam to his feet.

Sam couldn't keep from screaming as the movement ground the ends of his broken ribs together. He had no time to recover before a fist slammed into his gut. He would have doubled over if it hadn't been for Dean holding him up. Sam gasped as he tried to draw in air and he looked up just in time to see another fist coming at him, this one hitting him in the side of the head, the blow leaving Sam reeling on the edge of consciousness. Dean let him drop onto John's bed, a satisfied smirk curling his lips. He leaned over his brother and whispered menacingly into his ear. "You're nothing, Sam. You're weak and pathetic. I hate you…Dad hates you. We just keep you around because Mom loved you so much…why I'll never understand!"

Sam slowly opened his eyes and stared up at his brother. A lone tear slowly rolled down his cheek as he shook his head. "No…that's not true," he whispered. "Take it back, Dean…please…take it back."

Dean reached down and cruelly grabbed a handful of Sam's hair then yanked his head up from the bed. Sam tried to lift his hands to fend off another attack, but he was too weak to do anything but gaze pleadingly up into his brother's green eyes. "It ain't gonna work, Sam. I'm through giving in to your pathetic dewy eyed looks. I'm through taking care of you…through protecting you. I want you gone…I want you out of my life…out of Dad's life!"

"You're not Dean. He would never hurt me. What have you done with my brother," Sam whispered, sudden anger in his voice. "What have you done with him?"

Dean chuckled as he continued to grip Sam's hair in his hand. "It's me, Sammy…it's all me. Like I said, I want you out of our lives. I want you dead."

Sam swallowed at the hate filled eyes that stared down at him. This wasn't his brother. He didn't know what was happening, but he did know that if Dean were in his right mind he wouldn't be doing this. Sam knew he had to do something fast or he would most certainly die. It was there in Dean's eyes…he intended to kill him.

"Dean…I know this isn't you. You have to fight whatever is making you do this. Please, Dean…you have to fight it," Sam pleaded, voice more of a gasping whisper than anything else.

Dean yanked Sam's head back then punched him with such ferocity it threw Sam from the bed, his body landing on the floor at the foot of John's bed, his head and shoulders lying across the opening between the two beds. He couldn't move, couldn't fight back as Dean got off the bed and straddled his body. Sam tried to speak, but his jaw wouldn't work, wouldn't allow him to form words. All that came out through his lips was a pathetic, pain filled moan. Dean smiled as he wrapped his hands around Sam's throat and began to squeeze. Sam gasped, the teen somehow finding the strength to lift his hands and weakly grip Dean's wrists. His vision began to darken as his body was deprived of the oxygen it needed. His hands dropped away to his sides and just when he thought the end was near, Dean released his grip on this throat and pushed up off the floor. He stared down hatefully at his brother, a cruel sneer curling his lips.

"No, I don't want you to get off that easy. I want you to go slow and in pain. You deserve pain, Sam…so much pain for the pain you've caused," Dean snarled before kicking out, his foot connecting with Sam's ribs.

Sam gasped and drew in a deep breath. He rolled onto this side, but couldn't get his arms around his body in time to save his stomach from the next kick. He wasn't sure why, but the only thought that entered his mind was how thankful he was that Dean was barefoot and not wearing his boots. Dean kicked over and over, his foot landing anywhere it could…Sam's legs, stomach, chest, face. Nothing was safe from Dean's rage as he continued the beating. Finally he stopped then flipped Sam onto his back with one foot. He glared down at his bloodied and beaten brother and smiled. Sam was moaning softly, the teen barely conscious. Blood spilled over his lips and down both sides of his face before dripping down to pool on the carpet below. His breathing was ragged and stuttered. Dean knelt down and placed two fingers at the side of Sam's neck. The pulse was fast and erratic.

Dean placed his hands on either side of Sam's face, the blood spilling from the teen's mouth coating his fingers as the elder brother stared down at his dying sibling. He suddenly let go of Sam's face and stood up. He looked down at his blood stained hands and calmly wiped them on the front of his tee shirt then stepped over Sam's prone body and made his way back to his bed. He climbed into the bed then pulled the covers up over his shoulder. He fell asleep to the sound of Sam's ragged breathing and gut wrenching moans.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Sam had never known pain like this. Every place on his body hurt…his head, his face, his chest, his stomach. He didn't know how he was still conscious or even how he was still alive. He couldn't seem to draw in hardly any air and the blood that pooled in his mouth threatened to choke off what little air he was able to get. He coughed weakly spattering blood over his face and down onto his neck. Dean had meant to kill him, had in all likelihood succeeded. It was only a matter of time, that much Sam could tell. His mind may be muddled and confused, but he could tell by the pain he felt deep inside that it was bad…really bad. The pain was overwhelming, but not nearly as bad as the agony in his heart. His brother hated him and maybe this was all for the best. He couldn't live with that knowledge. It was way more than he could bare. Sam groaned as a sudden jolt of pain pierced through him. He willed his body to just stop fighting, to let the inevitable happen…to release him from this terrible pain. Finally, his body listened and let the darkness take it away from all the pain.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x

John pulled up outside the motel room and cut the engine to his truck. He glanced at the door to the room and sighed. He had gone back to the witch's house, not even sure what he was looking for. Something about the hunt, about her death bothered him. He didn't know what, but he was hoping that maybe he could find a clue if he went back through her house once more. He'd just started searching when a sudden, uneasy feeling had swept over him and he had the urgent need to get back to his sons. At first he'd brushed it off as being back at the house alone, but when the uneasy feeling escalated he couldn't resist it any longer. He'd literally run for his truck and was speeding back toward the motel in no time. Somewhere along the line he was able to calm himself and convince himself that it was just the strange way in which the witch had died and his exhaustion that had him on edge. The boys were fine. Dean was there to watch over Sam. He wouldn't let anything happen to his brother.

Now, he sat there in his truck staring at the motel room window. Feeling somewhat silly he opened the door and climbed out. He walked to the door and inserted the old metal key into the lock. He pushed the door open and stepped into the darkened room. He let his eyes adjust to the darkness then frowned when he only saw one huddled form in the boy's bed. He walked toward the beds, but stopped suddenly when his foot hit something solid on the floor. He looked down and nearly stopped breathing when he saw that it was Sam lying there, the teen not moving. He dropped to his knees and with only the muted moonlight to guide him, he reached out and touched Sam's face. Sam didn't move, nor did he make a sound. All John could hear was his baby boy's shallow and ragged breathing and the soft snores coming from the occupant of the bed.

"Dean! Wake up! What the hell happened here!" John screamed as panic filled him.

Dean came awake with a start and was up and out of the bed in one fluid motion. "What? Dad…what…"

"Dean…turn on the light so I can see!" John demanded without looking up from the shadowed form of his youngest son.

"Wh…yeah…okay," Dean said with confusion.

Suddenly the light came on and John gasped at what the light revealed. Sam's face was a myriad of cuts and bruises with blood covering every inch. His nose was swollen and misshapen and one cheek was a deep purple, almost to the point of being black. Blood trickled from his lips and John's stomach flipped when he saw how much was pooled beneath Sam's head. John pulled out his phone and dialed 911. When the call was answered he frantically relayed the information needed to get help to his son the flipped the phone shut again.

"Oh my God…Sammy? What happened? Dad…what happened?" Dean's strangely quiet, but terrified voice asked.

"You tell me, Dean! You were here. How could you sleep through your brother being beaten!" John snapped before glancing up at his eldest son. His eyes widened at what he saw. Dean looked at his father then back at his brother before returning his shocked eyes back to John. He took a step back when he saw the way John was looking at him.

"Dad? What…"

"What did you do, Dean? What the hell did you do?" John cried out, his eyes sweeping down the front of his son.

"What? I don't…" Dean started as he followed his father's gaze. He sucked in a deep breath when his eyes landed on his blood smeared shirt and sleep pants. He lifted his hands and couldn't stifle a sob that broke free when he saw the blood imbedded under his fingernails and the scrapes and bruises along his knuckles. He looked up at John, eyes pleading with his father to tell him that what he saw couldn't possibly be true. "Dad…I…"

Suddenly, Sam gasped then all sounds of breathing ceased. Two sets of terrified eyes jerked to the boy on the floor. "No…no, no, no!" John shouted as he pressed his fingers to Sam's neck. "Oh, God…no!"

John leaned over and pressed his ear to Sam's chest then straightened and held his hand just over Sam's mouth. "His heart has stopped…he's not breathing!" John shouted before immediately beginning chest compressions on his baby.

Dean lurched forward and dropped down opposite John. He prepared to give his brother mouth to mouth, but was stopped by John's stern and eerily calm voice. "No, Dean…you need to change out of those clothes! Get rid of them!" John snapped as he continued to press on Sam's chest, willing his boy's heart to start beating again. "Now, Dean!" he shouted when Dean just stared dumbly at him.

Dean nodded and pushed to his feet. He pulled the bloodied shirt over his head and tossed it onto the bed. His sleep pants soon followed then he crawled over the bed and retrieved his duffel bag nad pulled a clean shirt and jeans from it. He quickly dressed and pulled on his boots then grabbed the tee shirt and sleep pants and stuffed them into his duffel under his other clothes. He climbed back over the bed and retrieved his dirty clothes from the floor and stuffed them in the bag too. He watched as John stopped chest compressions and moved to blow air into Sam's lungs. He was just about to help when the sound of sirens reached his ears and he ran to open the door to the room. He ran back to his family and leapt over them then dropped down to his knees between the two beds. John looked up and nodded before moving back to start chest compressions again. The two worked in tandem, desperately trying to keep Sam alive. Medical personnel rushed into the room and the two Winchesters were pushed aside, the EMT's taking over where the two frantic family members had left off.

John and Dean watched in stunned silence as a tube was inserted in Sam's mouth and threaded down his throat. One EMT immediately began chest compressions again once Sam was intubated. He continued as Sam was secured to a back board and loaded onto a stretcher. Dean and John followed numbly behind and watched as Sam was pushed into the waiting ambulance. They watched as Sam's tee shirt was cut away and gel was squeezed out onto two paddles one of the EMT's had taken from the wall of the ambulance. Both Winchesters flinched when Sam's body arched up as the paddles were applied to his chest. The rushed forward when the doors to the ambulance were slammed shut, but two uniformed police officers stepped in front of them and they could only watch as their cherished family member was whisked away in shrill of loud sirens and flashing red lights.

John narrowed his eyes on the officer who stood in front of him and attempted to push by him. The officer grabbed his arm and held him back. "Sir, we need to talk to you about what happened here," the officer said.

"I'll talk to you later! I…we need to get to the hospital!" John snapped as he once again tried to get past the officer.

"Sir, I understand that this is a very difficult situation, but I need to find out what you know about what happened to your son," the officer persisted.

"I don't know what happened! I came to our room and he was just lying there!" John shouted.

The officer turned to look at his partner then cast his gaze on Dean. "What about him? Does he know what happened?" he asked.

"He was with me. We went out and when we returned we found Sammy," John answered.

Dean glanced over at his father then looked at the two police officers. "Look, we'll talk to you, but right now we need to get to the hospital. That's my baby brother…I can't stand here and talk to you right now," he said, the young man not even attempting to keep the pleading tone out of his voice.

The two officers glanced at each other then turned their attention back to the two hunters. "Okay, fine…but we will need to talk to you either tonight or tomorrow morning," the one officer who had been doing all the talking said.

"Thanks," John said before rushing around the officers and heading for the Impala, Dean following close on his heels.

The two hunters climbed into the car, John behind the wheel and Dean in the passenger seat. Dean placed his duffel bag on the seat between them, the young man thankful the officers hadn't noticed him taking the bag with him. He dug into the bag and pulled out his keys then handed them to his father. John started the car and backed out of the space then peeled away in the direction the ambulance had gone. He knew where the nearest hospital was as he always made it a priority to know where medical help was if needed. He glanced over at Dean and sighed. The young man was staring blankly out the windshield, his hands shaking as they rested in his lap. His long sleeves were pulled down over his knuckles, hiding the evidence of the beating he had dealt to his brother.

"Dean, what happened tonight?" John asked softly.

Dean slowly turned his head and John could see the tears that spilled down over his cheeks. "I don't know. The last thing I remember was you leaving and that's it. I woke up to you screaming and Sammy…oh God…Sammy. What have I done, Dad?" he cried softly.

"Dean…it wasn't you. I think maybe that witch did something before she died. This isn't your fault. I never should have left you and Sammy alone. I knew something was up with you, but I didn't listen to my concerns," John said.

Dean dropped his eyes to his lap and let out a muffled sob. "Dad? What if…what if Sammy dies?" he asked in almost a whisper. He lifted his eyes and glanced over, meeting John's gaze. "What if I killed him, Dad?"

**_I'll just be in my little hiding place for a while. This was definitely not a happy, sunny chapter. On a positve note, I'm almost finished with the next chapter for And the Deal Goes On. I hope to have it ready to post tomorrow sometime. I'll most likely post the next chapter for this one on Sunday. Thanks for reading._**

**_Cindy_**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well...once again I'm blown away by the response to this story. I'm so happy and flattered that you all seem to like it so well. The reviews have been so wonderful! Thank you all so much! Well, in this chapter, angst abounds! I hope you all like angst ;) So...I'll let you get reading.**

**Cindy**

**Chapter 3 – Waiting and Watching**

John glanced worriedly over for the umpteenth time at his eldest son. Dean normally would be pacing the floor right now, worry always making the young man jittery and nervous and unable to keep still, but this was different. Dean was silent and still and hadn't lifted his eyes from his hands in over an hour. The only movement coming from Dean was when he would turn his hands over to look at his palms, his breath hitching every time before he would turn them back over. John looked down at the young man's hands and flinched. Dried blood was imbedded beneath the fingernails and in the fine lines of his skin. John was sure more blood would be deep in the recesses of lines on his palms as well. John swallowed back at the tightness in his throat that formed upon seeing the blood. This was Sam's blood…his baby boy's blood, and it was on his other son's hands. Sure, Sam's blood had been on Dean's hands before, but never like this. Never was Dean the one who had made Sam bleed…never had he been the reason they were waiting for news on their youngest. John reached over and gently grasped Dean's forearm. He smiled tiredly when red rimmed, green eyes glanced up at him.

"The police will be here soon I'm sure. You need to go scrub your hands, Dean," John said softly.

Dean stared blankly at his father then looked down at his hands. "I…I don't know what happened. I don't remember…"

"Dean," John said, his hand squeezing lightly until Dean looked up at him. "It wasn't you, Dean. It was the witch. Somehow she got to you. You would never hurt your brother. I know that…he knows that. Now, you need to go scrub your hands. I know we could explain that the blood got there by performing resuscitation, but I'd rather not risk it so just…go wash your hands…splash some water on your face."

Dean nodded absently, but didn't move. John's heart broke at the anguish he saw in his son's eyes. He couldn't even imagine what Dean was going through. It was bad enough when one of his boys got hurt on a hunt. If he knew it was by his hand, no matter the situation, he didn't think he could handle it. "Dean…it's going to be okay. Sammy's going to be okay," he comforted, hoping against all odds that he was right.

A tear rolled down Dean's cheek as he dropped his eyes. He brought a hand up and scrubbed it over his face before glancing back up at his father. "What if he isn't, Dad? He stopped breathing…his heart stopped beating. What if they can't bring him back? I mean, he could be…he…I can't live without him, Dad…I can't live knowing I killed my little brother. I just can't!" he cried.

John blinked back his own tears then looked around to make sure nobody was within range to hear Dean's words. He returned his gaze to his son and sighed. "Dean, if they weren't able to revive him, they would have been out already to tell us. The fact that it's been over an hour tells me that Sammy is fighting. You know your brother. He's not going to give up without a fight. He's not going to leave us if he can help it. He's one stubborn kid and you know it."

Dean chuckled lightly at that and nodded. "Yeah…he is isn't he?" he said softly.

"Yeah, he is. Now go wash your hands before…" John started, but then Dean's eyes shot over his shoulder and the young man was on his feet in an instant.

John stood too and turned to follow Dean's gaze. A man dressed in scrubs with a white doctor's coat over the top strolled quickly in their direction. John's eyes dropped to the man's torso and he flinched at the blood that stained his top. The man was holding a clipboard in one hand and as he neared the two expectant hunters, he held out the other hand.

"Mr. Winchester?" the man asked. John took the offered hand and gave it a quick shake.

"Yes, I'm John Winchester. How is my son?" John answered.

"I'm Doctor Murray. I've been taking care of Sam," the doctor said as he glanced over at Dean.

"I'm Dean, Sam's brother. How is he? Is he going to be okay?" Dean offered hastily.

"Let's have a seat over in the corner, shall we?" Dr. Murray said before stepping around the two men and heading for a grouping of chairs in the corner of the waiting room.

Once the three men were seated, Dr. Murray looked up and sighed. "Sam presented with quite extensive injuries when he was brought in. As you know, he had stopped breathing and his heart had stopped. The EMT's were able to get him breathing again and they were also able to get his heart beating, but his condition was very precarious when he was brought into the ER," Dr. Murray started.

"But, he's going to be okay, right? You fixed him up and he's going to be fine," Dean interjected, his normally calm voice shaking as he stared wide eyed at the doctor.

Dr. Murray sighed again and looked at Dean. "I wish I could say that he was going to be fine. I wish I had better news to bring to you," he answered.

"What are you saying, Dr. Murray? Are you saying my son isn't going to make it?" John asked urgently.

"No, I'm not saying that. I'm saying there is a possibility that he won't make it," Dr. Murray answered.

"But, he could make it, right? He could pull through?" Dean asked, the young man on the verge of tears.

"Yes, he could, but…as I said, his injuries were extensive. He's on his way into surgery as we speak to fix a tear to his liver. He has internal bleeding that can't be explained by the liver tear so they will be trying to locate that bleeder. He's lost a great deal of blood and coupled with all of his other injuries…well, it's going to be a struggle for him," Dr. Murray explained.

"What other injuries? You have to tell us everything," John said gruffly.

Dr. Murray glanced over at the distraught father and quickly realized that this was a man who didn't want a sugar coated explanation. He wanted to know what his son faced down to the very last scratch. The doctor wasn't as sure about the son, but he was sure that the father would handle that part of it. He smiled tiredly and began to speak.

"Sam has a fractured jaw which will be wired during his surgery. He also has a cracked left cheekbone and eye socket. He has several broken ribs, but thankfully none of them punctured his lungs so he has that going for him. It appears as though he was strangled due to bruising on his neck and throat. You saw the EMT's insert the intubation tube. That tube is keeping his throat from swelling shut. He stopped breathing one time after he was brought in so a ventilator was necessary…"

"Wait…he has a machine breathing for him?" Dean asked, his voice near panic at the thought.

"For the time being, yes. If everything goes well in surgery, he may be able to be taken off the vent in a few days," Dr. Murray answered.

John sucked in a deep breath then let it out slowly before he spoke. "So, is that it? Is that the extent of his injuries?"

"No, I'm afraid that's not it."

"What else?" John asked reluctantly.

"He has a slight concussion due to a knock to the back of his head. It also appears as though he was kicked or punched repeatedly over his face, torso and legs. This beating is most likely what caused the tear in his liver and the unknown bleeder. He has a broken nose which we set in the exam room and he also has a broken left wrist, possibly from being kicked while trying to protect himself? That will be casted once the swelling has gone down. We are a bit concerned about his left eye. We won't know if he has any vision loss until he wakes up and we're able to do a vision exam on him…"

"He could be blind in one eye? Oh God…" Dean started, his breathing hitching as he doubled over his lap.

John reached over and laid his arm across his son's back. He leaned over and craned his neck so he could see Dean's face. "Dean…calm down before you hyperventilate. We can deal with this," he said evenly.

Dean looked up and took a deep breath. He straightened in his seat and glanced over at his father. "Calm down? Sam could die, Dad! And if he does live, he could be blind in one eye! He stopped breathing so he could have brain damage! Am I right, doc? Could he have brain damage too on top of everything else?" he cried desperately.

John looked over at the doctor and waited for his answer. "I'm afraid that is a possibility. We're not really sure how long Sam's brain was deprived of oxygen so there's no way to know until he wakes up," the doctor answered sadly.

"I started CPR and mouth to mouth right away…as soon as he quit breathing…then the EMT's took over," John offered hopefully.

The doctor nodded and smiled slightly. "That's good. The sooner resuscitation measures are started, the better," he said.

"Please tell me that that's all there is. Please, doc," Dean said pleadingly, his green eyes staring imploringly at the doctor.

"That's pretty much it. He has a lot of bruising and some cuts on his face and lip, but all of that should start to heal and fade rather quickly.

John nodded and glanced over at Dean before returning his attention to the doctor. "So, how long for his surgery? When will we be able to see him?" he asked.

"That just depends on what they find once they've gotten inside and also how Sam does during surgery. He'll for sure be going into the ICU, though I'm not sure if it'll be the pediatric unit or not. With his age it could go either way, though I'm inclined to say it'll be the pediatric ICU. I can't really say when you'll be allowed in to see him and for how long you'll be allowed to stay with him. That will be up to his surgeon," Dr. Murray answered.

"Could he die during surgery?" Dean asked softly, eyes staring wearily at the doctor.

Dr. Murray looked over and his heart went out to the young man. He could tell there was a deep love for his patient from these two men, but it seemed as though it was hitting the brother harder than the father. Maybe the father was just able to keep his emotions more hidden, but it seemed to the doctor that there was more to the brother's handling of the news than just fear of losing his brother.

"I'm not going to lie to you. There is a chance that Sam won't make it through the surgery. With the blood loss and trauma to his body…frankly, I'm a bit amazed that he made it to the hospital, but he's young and otherwise very healthy, and I could see he has a fighting spirit. All of that will work in his favor. I think given that and the love from you two, he has a decent chance," the doctor answered truthfully.

Dean nodded and looked over at John. John stood, the doctor and Dean following suit. "Thank you, Dr. Murray. Thank you for helping my son," he said as he reached for the doctor's hand.

Dr. Murray took John's hand then Dean's when the young man offered it. "I'll send someone down to take you to the surgical waiting room. The surgeon will come there to let you know how Sam is doing," he said.

"Thanks," Dean said softly.

The doctor nodded then turned and walked away from the hunters. They both stared after him then John turned to his son and sighed. "Go wash your hands, Dean then we'll go up to the surgical waiting room," he instructed.

Dean nodded then turned and shuffled toward the bathroom on the other side of the waiting room. John sat down and rested his elbows on his knees. He dropped his head into his hands and allowed the tears that he'd held at bay while the doctor was talking to them to fall. He couldn't believe this was happening. He couldn't conceive of the notion that he could lose his baby boy. He knew that if that happened, he and Dean would be destroyed. He feared what Dean might do considering the deep guilt the young man was feeling. If Sam died, John was almost certain Dean would soon follow. There would be nothing left for John to fight for then. There would be no reason for him to keep breathing. The survival of his family rested on the fragile shoulders of one sixteen year old boy…the sixteen year old boy that was everything in the world to him and his eldest son. The heart and soul of their family…the glue that held them all together was fighting for his life not knowing that if he lost that fight, his entire family would cease to exist.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

Dean couldn't take the waiting any longer. It was tearing a hole inside of him the size of the Grand Canyon and each minute that ticked by added to the size of that hole. Sam had been in surgery for nearly two hours with no word from anybody about his condition. Didn't they understand that Dean needed to know how his brother was doing? Didn't they care that his entire reason for breathing was lying on that table? Didn't they get it that if his Sammy died, he'd die right along with him? Of course they didn't understand. Who could understand the bond that had been forged between the brothers one fateful night nearly sixteen years earlier? John couldn't even understand the strong connection and he was faced with it on a daily basis. Dean lurched to his feet, the air in the room suddenly stifling and thick. He headed toward the door, but stopped when his father called out to him.

"Dean…where are you going?"

Dean turned and shook his head slowly. "I…I can't sit here any longer, Dad. I have to get some air. I can't breathe in here," he answered breathlessly.

John stood and walked over to his son. Dean was sure he was going to make him stay, but when the older hunter pulled off his jacket and handed it to him, Dean cocked his head and eyed his father curiously. "In the rush and confusion at the motel you forgot your coat. It's cold outside and I'm not going to have you in here too with pneumonia," John simply stated.

Dean smiled slightly and took the offered coat. He slipped it on then gazed up at his father. John smiled and reached out to pat Dean's arm. "He's going to make it, Dean. You'll see…he's going to pull through. He'd never leave you…not in a million years," he said.

Dean nodded as he turned toward the door. "Thanks, Dad. I won't be long. If they come to talk about Sam before I'm back, call me," he said before slipping out of the door and leaving his father to wait alone.

Dean shoved his hands into the deep pockets of John's coat and hurried toward the lobby. He had to get outside where maybe he could breathe. He rushed through the lobby and out the doors, the crisp February air nipping at his face as the light wind swirled the light dusting of snow that had fallen since they'd arrived at the hospital around the hunter's feet. Dean looked around the dark parking area and sighted a small grouping of trees at the south end. He rushed toward the trees, eager to escape the hospital, if only for a little while. Hospitals meant sickness and injuries and sometimes death and he just couldn't deal with it being Sam who required the medical attention, especially when it was his hands that had done the damage to his brother. Dean reached the trees and found that they encircled a small patio area with three park benches set along the edges of the trees. Dean walked to one of those benches and slowly lowered himself down onto it. He rested his hands on his lap and stared down at the ground, the images of his brother lying on the floor of the motel room covered in blood and not breathing filling his mind.

"God, Sammy," Dean cried softly. "I'm so sorry." He lifted his arms up and wrapped them around his head, the young man collapsing over his knees, tortured, grief stricken sobs escaping him as he finally allowed the emotions that had been building up inside him out. He had no idea how long he sat there rocking forward and back, sobbing his heart out. He only knew that his entire life was inside that hospital fighting for his life and that nothing else mattered. Not finding his mother's killer, not anything. Sam was what mattered. Sam was always what mattered most. Nothing else even came close. The sudden ringing of his phone had the young man springing to his feet and digging into his jeans pocket. He flipped the phone open with ice cold, numb fingers.

"Dean," his father's drawn voice sounded before Dean was even able to say hello. "The surgeon is here. He has word about Sammy."

"I'll be right there!" Dean called before flipping the phone shut and sprinting out of the patio area and across the parking lot.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

John and Dean stood outside the glass door leading into Sam's ICU room. Long curtains blocked their view of Sam, the curtains covered with cartoon pictures of elephants and giraffes and numerous other animals. Dean chuckled despite himself, knowing that his brother would be mortified if he knew he had been placed in the pediatric ICU where stuffed animals and cartoon characters were the order of the day. At least he wasn't in a room with clowns on the curtains, Dean thought idly as he waited for John to slide the door open. The surgeon's words still rang in Dean's ears and he had a sudden jolt of terror run through him at the idea of seeing his baby brother so critically ill.

The surgeon, Dr. Gamers if Dean could remember correctly had told them that Sam had crashed on the operating table and it had taken eight minutes for them to get his heart beating again. He had survived the surgery, just barely, and now lay in a coma in critical condition while machines kept him alive. His liver had been repaired and upon further inspection, it was discovered that he had suffered a perforation of his large intestines. That had also been repaired, but the threat of infection was greater now. The word sepsis had been used and Dean may not be a doctor, but he knew that sepsis was not something they wanted Sam to have to deal with. Blood loss had been a major concern as well and still was. They wouldn't know until after Sam awoke, if Sam awoke, whether that blood loss had resulted in any brain damage. Dean startled when he felt a hand land on his shoulder and he jerked his eyes around to find himself staring into dark, tired eyes.

"Are you ready, Dean?" John asked as he gave Dean's shoulder a light squeeze.

"Yeah…I'm ready," Dean answered warily, his heart racing in his chest as John slid the door open.

The two hunters pushed through the curtains and when they got their first look at Sam, neither one could believe what they were seeing. The slowly walked up to the bed, Dean taking the right side and John the left. They both stared down at their youngest family member and tried to keep their emotions at bay. Sam's face was a mess. The left side of his face was swollen and nearly black with bruises, his left eye completely swollen over. His nose was three times its normal size and blood rimmed each nostril. Dean's stomach lurched when he looked at the tube protruding from Sam's mouth. The ventilator that the tube was attached to whooshed and hummed with each breath it forced into Sam's lungs and Dean thought he may be sick. He sucked in a deep breath then continued his appraisal of Sam's condition. Sam's left wrist was in a brace and rested lightly over his stomach. Sam's chest and torso were bared with a multitude of wires stuck to several places. A large white bandage covered much of his lower abdomen. A needle had been stuck into a vein in his neck and a small plastic tube ran from the needle and up to a bag filled with a white milky substance. Other needles with more tubes were in the veins on Sam's right hand. Clear fluids were in two of the bags attached to these tubes while a third bag contained life giving blood.

Dean reached out a shaky hand to touch Sam's arm, but drew it back and let it drop to his side. As much as he wanted, no, needed to touch his brother, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd done this…he'd put Sam here and it didn't matter if it was the witch that had whammied him. It was his hands that had punched and choked, his feet that had kicked, his face that Sam had seen as he was being beaten nearly to death. He should have fought whatever it was. God knew he had thought something was wrong when he'd kept having the sudden feelings of anger and hate toward Sam. He should have told his father. He should have insisted that John not leave him alone with Sam. If he had, Sam wouldn't be lying here fighting for his life. Dean glanced up and met his father's concerned gaze. John opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment the door to the room slid open and a woman with light brown skin who appeared to be in her forties walked silently into the room. She smiled at both men then stepped up next to John.

"I'm Jenny. I'll be taking care of Sam tonight. I take it you are his family?" the woman asked in a soft, soothing voice.

"I'm John…Sam's father. This is Dean, his brother," John said in reply.

"Nice to meet you both," Jenny said as she went about checking Sam's vitals and the tubes and wires that ran from every visible part of his body. Dean and John watched intently, but any fear that the nurse would be rough with their precious boy was put to rest when they witnessed the gentle way she touched Sam's face and whispered softly words of comfort as she carefully lifted the bandage from his torso and checked his incisions. "Such a sweet, gentle boy," she whispered as she stepped back and glanced up at the monitors that surrounded the bed. She took a few notes then turned her attention to Dean. She smiled and winked at the confused young man. "I'm right aren't I? He is a sweet, gentle boy?" she asked. "I'm thinking he's pretty smart too?"

"Yeah, he is. How do you know all that?" Dean answered suspiciously.

"Well, let's just say I have a certain knack for knowing things. I've had the gift all of my life. Got it from my momma," Jenny said.

"You're a psychic?" John asked.

Jenny cast her gaze to John and smiled. "I guess psychic would sum it up pretty well. I can't see the future, but I can sense things about people. I can read thoughts. Like I can sense that your sweet boy is fighting real hard to get back to you two. He loves you both very much," Jenny answered before returning her gaze to Dean. "And, I can sense that he doesn't blame you, Dean. He knows it wasn't you who did this to him," she added knowingly.

"Wait! What are you saying!" John snapped as he looked over to see that Dean had paled considerably.

Jenny looked at him and nodded. "I know about the witch. She's been terrorizing this town for a long time, but nobody knew or would even believe that a witch was behind all the hurtin' that's been goin' on. She cursed your eldest with her dying words. This is the result," she answered. "Don't worry, I ain't gonna tell anybody. It was the witch. Dean would rather die than to hurt his baby brother…I can see that."

"So, I'm cursed? I could hurt Sammy again?" Dean cried as his terrified eyes went from Jenny to his father. "Dad…I can't be here! I have to…"

"Shhh, Dean…it's alright now. The curse is gone. You did what the witch desired…you hurt your brother. It's over," Jenny said as she came around the bed and gave Dean's arm a gentle squeeze.

Dean glanced over with tear filled eyes. "Are you sure? I'm not going to hurt him anymore?" he asked fearfully.

"No, sweetie. You don't have to worry about that anymore. And you don't have to worry about touching him. He needs you to touch him…to talk to him. He needs both of you to help him find his way back from where his is right now," Jenny explained.

"What do you mean from where he is?" John asked, dark eyes wide with worry. "Where is he?"

"The other side, John. He's floating somewhere in the middle of here and there. He'll have to make a decision and he'll need to know that he's wanted and needed here in order to make the right decision," Jenny answered.

"And if he doesn't make the right decision?" John asked, his voice thick with fear.

"Then he'll die."

**Dun, dun, dun! Yes, I know that Jenny sounds an awful lot like Missouri, but I promise you I wasn't even thinking about Missouri when the idea of Jenny came to me. This was planned as a short story so I needed John and Dean to learn about exactly what was going on as quickly as possible and also know what Sam was facing in addition to his obvious injuries. This was my solution. **

**I leave tomorrow for the cabin so I'm not sure how the internet connection will be. I may not be able to post until we return on Friday. If I can, I will post sooner. Thanks for reading and take care :)**

**Cindy**


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay...you guys rock! I have Dean nearly beat Sam to death and not only do you not want to kill me, but you want me to keep posting! Crazy! :D Thank you once again for the awesome reviews. Now, I read thru the entire 7 chapters of this story and discovered a hole in the story so I have to fix that before I post anymore after this chapter. It shouldn't take too long, but I do need to work on getting the next 3 brothers chapter done so I can post that. I will try not to make you wait too terribly long. Anyway, I'll let you get back to the story. I have a little surprise character for you at the end of this chapter...well, I guess there's two surprise characters. :D**

"_What do you mean from where he is?" John asked, dark eyes wide with worry. "Where is he?"_

"_The other side, John. He's floating somewhere in the middle of here and there. He'll have to make a decision and he'll need to know that he's wanted and needed here in order to make the right decision," Jenny answered._

"_And if he doesn't make the right decision?" John asked, his voice thick with fear._

"_Then he'll die."_

**Chapter 4 – The Other Side**

Sam stood at a crossroads, his hazel eyes glancing down one road then the other. He didn't know how, but he knew that one road would lead him back to his family and one would lead him away from them. He paid no mind to the roads that stretched behind him, somehow knowing that it was the ones before him that he needed to choose from. He didn't know how he'd gotten here, didn't understand why his family had left him, but he was determined to get back to them. He remembered something about Dean being mad at him, but surely that wouldn't make them abandon him. Dean had been mad at him many times, John more, yet they'd always kept him close and safe, no matter what. Maybe, Sam thought fearfully, this had been the last straw. Maybe whatever he'd done had finally pushed both his father and brother over the edge. Maybe they had finally decided they were better off without him. Sam dropped his eyes then closed them completely. He had to find them, had to find out what he'd done so he could fix it. He looked down the road to the left, then the one to the right. He chose the road on the right, but when he began to walk that way, something pulled him toward the left and no matter how hard he fought, he could not keep himself from going down that road. Finally, he quit fighting.

Sam walked for what seemed like ages and nothing changed. There was nothing but grass covered plains for as far as the eye could see. The sun burned brightly in the pale blue sky and Sam wiped at the sweat that dripped down his face and neck. When his throat began to hurt and he became thirsty, a clear, cold spring suddenly appeared beside the road, offering him a cool drink and chance to rest. He hummed in satisfaction as the crystal clear water cooled his throat. He splashed the water over his face and head then he lay down in the grass and stared up at the cloudless sky. He'd rest for a few minutes before beginning his trek again. He shut his eyes and let the gentle breeze brush over his skin, cooling him from the heat of the sun. Soon, he had drifted off to sleep and not long after that images began to play through his resting mind…horrible images of pain, blood and anger and the face he saw through all of the violence belonged to the one person who had vowed to protect him from everything and everyone. Sam cried and mewled softly in his sleep then he suddenly awoke with a gasp.

"D-Dean…why?" he whispered brokenly.

Sam sat up and looked around, the images from his dream haunting him as he suddenly realized where he must be. The last image he had seen was of him lying motionless on the floor of the motel while Dean stepped over his body and crawled back into bed. If the dream was to be believed, then he had been beaten to death by his brother and he was now in heaven or hell…or somewhere in between. Sam dropped his chin to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut, no longer wanting to see the vast blue sky and endless fields of grass. He wanted to disappear…he wanted to open his eyes and find nothing. If his family didn't want him, then there was no reason for him to exist anywhere. He lifted his chin and slowly opened his eyes. Tears welled when he found that none of the scenery had changed. He was still here in this place, alone and lost and broken. He pushed to his feet and began to walk, his feet shuffling in the dirt of the road, his head hanging low. He had no clue where he was headed or what he would find and he really didn't care. Nothing mattered now that he knew the truth.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x

John and Dean watched in shocked disbelief as Jenny left them alone with Sam. They turned back to their youngest and gazed down sadly at his beaten, swollen face. According to the nurse, if Sam made the wrong decision he would never wake up. They would never again see the gentle hazel eyes or hear his soft voice and it broke their hearts in two. Dean couldn't help but to think that Sam wouldn't hesitate to stay wherever he was. If the kid had any memory at all as to what happened to him, why would he want to come back? Dean could only hope that his brother knew that he could never hurt him. He reached down and gently brushed his fingers over Sam's uninjured cheek then leaned down and spoke lightly in his ear.

"Sammy…if you can hear me please, please come back. I can't do this without you, little brother. I need my sidekick. I mean, who would Batman be without Robin? Yogi without Booboo?" Dean asked wearily. "How else are you going to drive Dad and me crazy, huh? We need that, Sam…we need you to kick us in the pants every now and then. Dad more than me, but hey…I know I can get a little full of myself too so you have to get back here to save us from ourselves."

John glanced over at Dean and smiled sadly. His eldest never could handle stuff like this very well and always depended on humor to get him through. Somehow, John thought, it would take more than humor to get both of them through this time. It would take a miracle. John cast his gaze to Sam's face and held back tears as he reached down and gently rubbed Sam's arm. He looked over as the door to the room slid open and Jenny re-appeared from behind the curtain.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but there's a detective who says he needs to talk to you. I tried to turn him away, but he is adamant," Jenny said apologetically.

John glanced over at Dean and pursed his lips. "You stay…I'll go talk to him," he said. Dean nodded appreciatively then went back to talking to his brother. John gave his boys one last glance then followed Jenny out into the hallway. A man dressed in a worn suit stood in the hall and looked up from his notepad when John and the nurse stepped out of the ICU room. Jenny moved in front of John and faced the detective.

"Now, I know you have to investigate this incident, but don't you dare keep this man from his baby for very long. That boy in there needs his daddy and his brother and that's what you need to think about first and foremost," Jenny commanded, hands on her hips as she stared the detective down.

"I understand, ma'am, and I'll try to make this as brief as possible," the detective said in reply before turning his attention to John. "Mr. Winchester, where is your other son? I'd like to speak with him also," the officer asked.

"He's in with Sammy. He doesn't know any more than I do so there is no need to take him away from his brother. He's devastated right now and would be no help to you what so ever," John answered firmly, dark eyes sparked with muted anger.

"Well, I'm still going to want to talk to him, but I can start with you. Let's move to the family room down the hall so we can have some privacy," the officer said.

John glanced at Jenny and nodded his appreciation then followed after the detective. Jenny shook her head before she moved behind the nurse's desk to monitor her patients. John took a seat on one of the cushioned chairs in the PICU family room. The detective pulled up a chair and turned it so that when he sat he was facing John. He glanced down at his notepad then back up at John.

"Mr. Winchester, my name is Detective Sano. I know you want to get back to your son, but this is a very serious situation we have here. Can you tell me exactly what happened last night? How your son came to be so terribly beaten?" the detective asked.

John cleared his throat and looked the detective square in the eyes. "I can only tell you what happened once my oldest son and I came back to the room. We found Sammy on the floor of the motel, bloody and beaten and barely breathing. We called 911 then immediately began checking him over. He stopped breathing and his heart stopped so we began CPR and resuscitation. The emergency crews showed up and took over for us. We didn't see any suspicious vehicles or people hanging around when we came back. I have no idea what happened to Sam, but I can tell you that if you find the bastard who did this to my son, you better keep a close eye on him because if I get my hands on him, I'll kill him." John never took his eyes off of the detective as he relayed his story to the man. The detective made some notes in his notepad then sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"Why did you leave Sam alone in the motel? Where were you and your son so late at night?" Detective Sano asked.

"We had come back from night hiking and Sam wasn't feeling too well so he stayed behind while Dean and I went back out to scope out a good spot for our next hiking trip tonight," John answered.

"Night hiking?" the detective asked for clarification.

"I'm teaching my sons survival skills and stuff like that. We spend a lot of time camping and hunting and I want them to be able to handle things if they become lost or whatever. We're working on winter night skills right now," John answered without any hesitation.

"Doesn't Sam go to school? I mean, it's the middle of the week," the detective asked.

"I took him out for the week. He made all of his homework up beforehand…he's a real smart kid and is way ahead in all of his classes so missing a week isn't going to hurt him," John replied, a hint of pride in his voice.

The detective nodded then flipped the page on his notepad. "So, you say that you weren't there and that your oldest son was with you. The problem I'm having with this is that there was no sign of forced entry into the room. There was an obvious struggle, but from what I was able to get from the EMT's, there were no defensive wounds on Sam other than the broken wrist. I spoke with the ER doctor and he said there was no skin under his fingernails to indicate that he had tried to scratch at his attacker. It's like he didn't even put up a fight…like he just allowed himself to be beaten," the detective said.

"So, what are you implying here? That either me or my son did this?" John said angrily, though he kept his voice low and even.

"You have to see this from my perspective, Mr. Winchester. There was no sign that anyone broke into the room and your son only had the injuries from his beating. Normally, one would see injuries from putting up a fight, especially if their being assaulted so viciously," Detective Sano explained.

John shook his head and stared at the detective. "Look, I get what you're saying and both my sons are trained to defend themselves. I'm an ex-marine and I've made sure my boys can take care of themselves," he said.

"So then, why didn't Sam fight back? Could it be that he knew his attacker and didn't want to hurt them?"

"Sam would fight back if he could, no matter who the attack was coming from. My guess is that he opened the door to go down to the vending machine and was taken by surprise. The ER doctor said that he had a slight concussion from a knock to the back of his head. Maybe someone was waiting for him and hit him as he came out of the room then pushed him back inside and began beating him when he couldn't fight back. I have no idea and neither does Dean…we weren't there. If I knew anything, I would tell you," John offered up as an explanation.

"Okay, that sounds plausible, but that leads to another question. Why? Why would someone wait outside your room? Why target your son? How would they even know that Sam would be coming out of the room in the first place?" the detective asked.

John sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face then looked at the detective. "Look, it's obvious the motel is in a rough part of town. Unfortunately, that's all I can afford. Someone could have spotted us when we came in a few days ago. They could have been watching the place thinking they could rob us and waiting for the right moment to strike. Sam goes out to the vending machine every day. They could have been watching and saw that he was left alone and just hoped that he came out."

"So, why beat him? Why not just rob him and be done with it?"

"We don't have anything of value. Sam has no money except a few dollars in change at the most. They could have become angry that they spent all that time and came up with nothing. They could have been fearful that he could identify them…I just don't know. All I do know is that I would never harm my son. And Dean? He'd die for that kid in a heartbeat," John said with absolute conviction.

The detective eyed John for several moments then nodded his head. "So," he finally started. "I suppose if I talk to your oldest son, he'll have the same story?" he continued.

"What…like we've had time to get our story straight?" John asked with a huff. "Believe me, we haven't had the mental capacity right now to come up with some elaborate story. My son could die…that's all I've been thinking about these past hours. That's all Dean has been thinking about. We didn't hurt Sam, but someone did. Did you talk to the motel clerk? Maybe he saw something? What about fingerprints? Maybe whoever did this left fingerprints."

"We talked to the clerk, but he admitted that he fell asleep sometime around ten. He didn't wake up until he heard the emergency vehicle sirens," Detective Sano answered. "We dusted for fingerprints, but with the obvious lack of cleaning at this motel, it's likely that the fingerprints from the past several occupants of that room are still there basically making the fingerprints useless."

"So, what do you do now? No witnesses, no usable fingerprints?" John asked.

"Oh, we have a witness, Mr. Winchester," the detective answered.

"Who would that be?"

"Your son…Sam."

x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Dean watched John leave the room then turned his attention back to Sam. He felt nervous about being left alone with his brother and hoped that John wouldn't be gone long. Yes, Jenny had said the curse was gone, but he didn't know Jenny so he couldn't fully trust that what she said was true. He was already on the verge of having a full breakdown…if he hurt Sam again, even a little, it would send him over the brink and he'd never be able to come back from it. He heaved a nervous sigh as he turned his attention back onto Sam then he shoved the doubts and fears aside and concentrated fully on the job at hand. He had to make sure Sam knew he was there and that he meant him no harm. He had to make his little brother hear how much he was needed and wanted so that he would fight harder to return to them. He brushed hair back from Sam's eyes and let out a sad chuckle.

"You need a haircut, Sammy, but I promise…if you fight real hard and come back to us, I'll never tell you that again. You can grow your hair to your ass if you want to…just…fight, Sammy…fight harder than you've ever fought 'cause I need you around…both me and Dad need you," Dean pleaded softly, his fingers lingering at Sam's temple as he watched his brother for any sign that he could hear him. He blinked sadly when there was no flinch, no movement…nothing at all from the teen.

Dean reached for Sam's hand and gripped it gently in his own. He rubbed his thumb over the top, being careful of the IV needles that were taped in place. He began to talk, telling Sam stories the kid already knew just so Sam could hear his voice, all the while hoping that if Sam could hear him, it wouldn't work against them.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Sam walked for what seemed like hours, his body overheated from the persistent sunshine, his heart heavy with sorrow. He glanced up every now and then, but the scenery never changed…until it suddenly did. Sam nearly jumped when he looked up and there right in front of him stood a two story house that seemed familiar in some way. He stopped and shielded his eyes from the sun as he surveyed the house. A sudden whisper of a sweet voice singing softly wafted to him on the breeze and his heart began to pound furiously in his chest as he made his way around the side of the house to where the voice was coming from. Sam's breath hitched when he saw a woman kneeled on the ground, hair like spun gold glistening brightly in the sunshine. She was working in a beautiful flower garden, the scent of the blooms reaching his nose, creating a need in him that he didn't…couldn't understand. He took a step forward, but stopped when the woman sat back on her heels and looked his way. He nearly passed out when he saw her face.

"M-Mom?" Sam whispered as the woman smiled brightly and pushed to her feet. He stared in wide eyed wonderment as she gracefully walked his way and pulled him into her arms.

"Oh, Sammy…it's so good to see you. I've been waiting," Mary whispered lightly into his ear before kissing the ear tenderly. She pushed Sam back at arms length and eyed the stunned teen up and down. She reached up and brushed a tear that trailed down Sam's cheek away then leaned in to kiss him once again, this time on the forehead. "I know this is shocking and you don't quite believe what you're seeing, but it's really me, Sam," she said lovingly.

Sam reached out and touched his mother's face, his fingers shaking slightly as they brushed over her cheek. "Mom…what…why…" he stammered, his hazel eyes never leaving Mary's face.

Mary shook her head and smiled sadly. "It doesn't matter, my sweet boy. You're here now…for the time being. I can only tell you that what you think you believe is not the way it is," she answered as she took Sam's arm and led him to a table that sat in the shade of giant weeping willow. She sat Sam down then poured a glass of cold lemonade from a pitcher that sat in the middle of the table. She pushed a plate of fresh baked cookies in front of him then took a seat beside him, her beautiful blue eyes gazing lovingly at her youngest son.

Sam smiled appreciatively then took a long sip of the delicious drink. He took a cookie then looked up at his mother. "What did you mean, Mom? What isn't the way I believe it is?" he asked softly.

"It's not for me to tell you, Sam. In time, you'll know what I mean," Mary answered.

Sam closed his eyes then opened them and looked around. "Mom, is this heaven?" he suddenly asked, hazel eyes meeting his mother's as he waited expectantly for an answer.

"No, sweetie…this isn't heaven. It's a place between the living world and heaven," Mary replied with a smile.

"Why am I here? Am I…am I dead?"

Mary's eyes glistened with sadness as she reached over and took Sam's hands in hers. "No…not yet. You're very close, sweetie, but you're still holding on and you need to keep holding on," she answered softly.

"So, is this Limbo?"

"Something like that."

"I like it here…can I stay with you?"

Mary dropped her eyes and shook her head. She lifted her gaze again and Sam could see tears in her eyes. "Sam…I'm only here to help you to not be afraid. They sent me to be here until the time comes for you to make your decision," she answered.

"My decision? What decision?" Sam asked, eyes narrowed in confusion.

"I can't tell you that, sweetie," Mary replied, head tilting as she watched her son with sadness.

"Then…how do I know what decision to make if I don't know what I'm deciding?"

Mary smiled and squeezed Sam's hands. "I knew you were going to be a smart one, Sam. I can't tell you, but he can," she said as she cast her gaze past Sam's shoulder before shifting it back to him.

Sam looked over his shoulder and saw a man of about average height sitting on a log that hadn't been there before. The man winked and motioned for the teen to join him. Sam looked back at his mother who gave him an encouraging nod. "Go, Sam…he'll help you," she said.

Sam leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his mother's back. He dropped his face into the crook of her neck and drank in the scent of her perfume. "I love you, Mom…so much," he whispered.

"I know you do…and I love you more than anything in the world," Mary said in return. She leaned back and waited for Sam to look up at her. When he did, she smiled. "Go, Sam…we'll talk later maybe," she said.

Sam reluctantly rose to his feet and turned toward the stranger. He began to walk then stopped and looked over his shoulder. He watched as Mary turned and waved before disappearing into the house. Sam stood for a few moments then turned back around and walked to where the man was sitting. He sat opposite the man on another log that was there and cocked his head. "Hello…I…I'm Sam," he said hesitantly.

The man gave him a crooked smile leaned forward placing his elbows on his knees. "I know who you are, Sam. Seems you've gotten yourself into a bit of trouble huh?" the man replied.

"Uh…yeah, I guess. I…I don't mean to be rude, but…who are you?" Sam asked.

"Oh…sorry. The name is Gabriel."

**Hehehehe...I love Gabriel! He was requested for this story so here he is! So, let me know what you think and in the meantime, I'll get the little booboo fixed so I can post more. Take care and love to you all.**

**Cindy**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey all! Thanks so much for all of the fantastic reviews :D I fixed a few holes in this next chapter, but I think its ready to post now. Still have a major hole to fix, so that will take a little bit of time. So, read on.**

**Cindy**

"_Uh…yeah, I guess. I…I don't mean to be rude, but…who are you?" Sam asked._

"_Oh…sorry. The name is Gabriel."_

**Chapter 5 – Where is Home?**

"I'm sorry…did you say Gabriel? As in the archangel Gabriel?" Sam queried, hazel eyes wide as he stared at the average looking man before him.

"Ah…so you've heard of me," Gabriel answered then gave the teen a crooked grin. "Of course, you are the believer in your family now aren't you?"

Sam narrowed his eyes as he shifted uncomfortably on the log he was sitting on. "How do you know that?" he asked.

"I'm an angel, Sam," Gabriel replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

"You don't look like an angel. Where are your wings?"

The angel sighed then stood and stretched his arms out beside him. "This is what I show to you because you cannot look upon my true visage. This is my vessel," he answered.

"You're possessing someone!" Sam cried out indignantly.

"Not possessing, Sammy…"

"It's Sam," Sam said curtly.

Gabriel shook his head impatiently then rolled his eyes. "Fine…Sam. I am not possessing anybody…this is the body of a true believer…one who prayed for this. Angels cannot use a human's body without their permission. The human has to say yes in order to become a vessel. This is something you need to remember…keep in the back of your mind for the day that you will need the knowledge."

"What are you talking about?"

"There is a lot you should know, Sam…a lot I could tell you, but it wouldn't matter so I won't waste my breath."

"What should I know and why would you be wasting your breath by telling me?"

"Oh, Sam…always so many questions with you. You drive your father insane with them…you know that right?"

At the mention of his father, Sam's shoulders sagged and he dropped his eyes to the ground. "I guess that's why he and Dean…why they…" he whispered brokenly, the teen unable to finish his thoughts as tears welled in his eyes.

"Sam, what you saw in your dream isn't what it seems," Gabriel said.

Sam looked up and cocked his head slightly. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Do you really believe that brother of yours would hurt you like that? Doesn't it make more sense that something made him hurt you? You sensed it when he was beating you…you knew it wasn't really him so why do you think it was now?"

"Because…maybe being here I can see things more clearly now. Dean has had to give up so much for me. He's always having to watch out for me and take care of me when he should be free to do normal things guys his age do…I mean, when there isn't a hunt to keep him from it. I am a weight on his shoulders holding him back. I'm…"

"You're an idiot, that's what you are. Haven't you heard him calling for you? Haven't you heard his pleas for you to come back to him?"

"Wh-what? I…I've heard something, but I…I didn't know where it was coming from. Thought maybe I was hearing things."

"You're so blind, Sam, and apparently deaf too. Don't you see that he loves taking care of you? That it's the most important thing to him? He doesn't see you as someone holding him back or someone making him miss out on a life he could have…you are his life, Sam and that's the way he wants it. It's killing him that you're becoming more independent every day. It makes him feel as though you don't need him as much," Gabriel explained, eyes watching the youngster before him intently.

Sam considered Gabriel's words then closed his eyes and smiled softly. Finally, he looked up at the angel, but before he could speak, Gabriel held up his hand and stopped him.

"Let me just cut you off right there, Sam. I know you think that your dad doesn't love you as much anymore…that he thinks you're the weak link or something like that, but you're wrong about that too. Your dad loves you just as much as Dean does and would do anything to keep you safe. He pushes you so hard because he believes it's the only way to accomplish that…keeping you safe."

"But we…"

"Fight all of the time? Yeah, I know. It's because you both are so much alike…both stubborn and pigheaded. You want to be heard and he wants you to hear him and because he's the dad, it's his way or else. That doesn't work well with you, just like it never worked well with he and his dad. He wanted something other than what his father wanted for him and it led to many fights. It's his way, Sam…and you're just like him."

"I would never expect my kids to live a life they didn't want! I would let them choose their own path…I would want them to be happy!"

"Your dad wants you to be happy, Sam, but he knows what's out there and he knows that in order to keep you safe, he has to be hard on you. He's more concerned with your safety at this point."

Sam sighed and shook his head. He knew what the angel said was true, but he still didn't like it. He still believed he could live a normal life and be relatively safe. He knew that the odds of living that normal life were pretty close to nil, but he could still dream. Finally, he looked at the angel and cleared his dry throat.

"Why am I here? Why are you here? Why would an archangel be so interested in me?"

"I'm here to convince you to go back to your father and brother…go back to the land of the living and leave the dead for the time being. That voice you've been hearing, but ignoring…that's your brother. He wants you to come home…he needs you to come home. But, it's your decision, Sam," Gabriel answered.

Sam's breath hitched and he looked over his shoulder at the house that his mother had disappeared into. "Why go back? They're better off without me so why not just stay here?" he asked as he turned back around and looked at the angel.

Gabriel sighed as he lifted his eyes to the sky and shrugged. "Because, Sam…you have a destiny to fulfill and you can't do it here."

Sam cocked his head, his hazel eyes widening at the angel's words. "Destiny? What are you talking about?"

Gabriel waved his hand in dismissal of Sam's question then took a seat on his log. "Look, Sam…if it were up to me, I'd say stay here…throw a wrench into the whole plan and save me a lot of crap down the line, but it isn't up to me so…go back to your family and fulfill your destiny and all that crap okay?"

"You know, for an angel, you're kind of a jerk. Like I said, they're better off without me. I can stay here with my mom and they can keep hunting without having to protect my sorry ass…my father's words by the way…"

"Yeah, yeah…you're father hates you…blah, blah, blah…they don't understand you…blah, blah, blah…you think you're a burden…blah, blah, blah! Get over your pity party, Sam and get a clue! We've been through this already. For whatever reason, they need you. If you don't go back, they'll die…plain and simple."

Sam jumped up from the log, his eyes wide as he stared fearfully at the angel. "What! What are you talking about?" he cried.

Gabriel shook his head in exasperation. "If you die, on their next hunt, Dean goes in guns blazing and he takes out a whole mess of baddies, but he makes sure he goes right along with them. Daddy dearest can't keep it together after losing both sons and he drinks himself to death. Do you really want that to happen, because if you stay here, it will."

Sam shook his head and glared angrily at the angel. "You're lying! Dean would never do that to Dad and Dad would never abandon his hunt for Mom's killer…not for anything! Yeah, they love me, but they'll…"

"So you think you know more than me!" Gabriel shouted as he shot to his feet, eyes flashing dangerously. "I'm an angel, Sam! I know what I'm talking about. I saw Dean die…saw his shredded body. I watched the mighty John Winchester choke on his own vomit! I've seen people that you don't even know yet but will love one day, die. I watched you break the final seal and start the Apocalypse only to save the world in the end! You have no clue how important you are to them…to the entire human race! Your self-loathing is becoming a bit tiresome and could lead to the destruction of the planet! Is that what you want?"

Sam stumbled back, his knees hitting the log. He reached a trembling hand out behind him and guided himself down onto the log. "Why are you telling me this? My destiny, the people I'll lose, the things I'll do? Aren't you afraid that I'll remember all of this and change my choices?"

Gabriel shook his head and stared down at the shocked teen. "Nope…'cause you won't remember any of this. You won't remember me or seeing your mom or anything that I've told you. You'll wake up to your relieved family and you'll have no memory of being here. You'll see me again, way in the future and you may think you've seen me before, but you won't remember. To you, I'll just be another thing you're hunting."

Sam looked past the angel, his eyes glistening as everything that he had learned played through his mind. He cast his gaze back to the angel and bit his bottom lip. "If I stay here, Dad and Dean die, but others I haven't even met yet live. If I go back, people die because they've met me, but Dad and Dean live?"

"Don't forget the world, Sam…all those people counting on you…"

"But if you're right, I start the Apocalypse. If I stay here, I won't be there to start it in the first place."

"Correction…you help start it. You only break the final seal. The first one has to be broken for the others to follow. If you don't do it, someone else will, but there's one big difference between you and whomever may complete the breaking of the seals… you're the only one who can stop it all. You're the only one who can stop Lucifer. In the end, it all comes down to you, Sam…only you..oh, and that insane bond you have with your brother. So, what do you say?"

"I-I don't understand…what seals? The apocalypse? And Lucifer? How can I defeat Lucifer? Why only me?"

"You'll find out on your own about the seals and Lucy and all that. Why you? Because that's what God wants…it's been decided for eons, but you have to decide to take that path. Fulfill your destiny, Sam…geez, you got me sounding like an extra in Star Wars."

Sam looked back at the house and tears filled his eyes yet again when he saw his mother once again tending her garden. He turned when she sat back and gazed lovingly at him. "Mom?" he whispered as she smiled up at him and nodded. He wanted so badly to stay, but his need to be with his father and brother was greater. He turned back to Gabriel and whispered, "I want to go home."

Gabriel reached out his hand and lightly touched Sam's forehead. Sam gasped as brilliant white light surrounded him. He felt a pressure in his chest, then a flash of pain. He felt as though he was falling when suddenly, everything went pitch black and then he felt nothing…until he opened his eyes and began to choke.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x

John slipped back into Sam's room and nodded to Dean as he approached the bed upon where his youngest son lay. Dean barely gave his father a glance before he went back to softly talking into Sam's ear, his hand holding and rubbing Sam's smaller one. John brushed his fingers lightly over Sam's cheek, his dark eyes drifting over his son's frail, broken body. How could he have been so stupid? He should have known right away that something was wrong at the witch's house. That gibberish she was mumbling as she died? He should have taken her head before she had a chance to place the curse on Dean, but he hadn't. He'd stood there and watched as she died before taking care of her body, but by then the damage was done and now he could lose not one, but both of his sons. He looked up at Dean and his heart broke. His son looked as though he'd aged 20 years in just one night. Eyes dull and red, face drawn and pale. The kid looked about ready to pass out yet still he continued to talk to his baby brother, his eyes never leaving Sam's face, surely watching for any sign that his words were getting through to the teen.

John cleared his throat and waited for Dean to lift his gaze to him. "Why don't you go down the hall to the waiting room. There's a couch down there you can stretch out on for a few hours. You look beat," he said gruffly.

Dean shook his head and looked back at Sam. "I'm not leaving Sammy," he replied shortly.

"Dean, I'll be here with Sam…you need to get some sleep."

Dean looked up, formerly dull eyes flashing with anger. "I did this to him! I know it was that curse making me, but I should've been able to stop it! I should have protected Sammy, but turned out it was me he needed protection from! I'm not leaving him because I'm a little tired…he deserves better than that!" he seethed through clenched teeth.

John nodded his head, resigned to the fact that Dean was not going to leave his brother for anything or anyone. "Well, then you need to at least sit down before you fall down. I'll go see if I can round us up some chairs," he mumbled before turning and leaving the room once again.

Dean watched him go then stood up and stretched his back. He leaned back over and resumed his rambling, his hand instinctively reaching for Sam's yet again. "Don't worry, Sammy…I'm not going anywhere. Dad can go sleep if he wants, but you're stuck with me kiddo. Now, how about I tell you about my date with that redhead in Lansing. You know, the one with enormous ti…boobs?" he began, his voice droning on as he continued on with his mission to make Sam hear him. He didn't even notice when John returned to the room until a hand grasped his arm and guided him down into a hard, plastic chair. He looked up and smiled appreciatively at his father then went back to talking to Sam. John rounded the bed and took a seat on the chair he had acquired for himself. He listened to Dean relay story after story, a fond smile curling his lips. His eyes watched Sam's face until finally, the swooshing sound of the ventilator coupled with Dean's hushed voice lulled him into a light sleep, leaving his two sons to carry on their one way conversation in relative peace. It was the sound of a blaring alarm and Dean's frantic screams that jolted the man awake, his wide eyes taking in the scene as hoards of medical personnel spilled into the room and shoved he and Dean aside.

The two Winchesters were ushered out of the room, but not before they saw the PICU doctor place paddles against Sam's chest and shout "Clear!" They saw Sam's body arch off of the bed before the curtain was drawn, blocking their view of what was happening to their youngest. They could hear commands being shouted and people rushing about in the room and it only added to the terror they were both feeling. Dean slid down the wall, arms over his head as he curled into a ball, his body shuddering as he rocked back and forth. John knelt down in front of him and reached out to grip his arm. Dean looked up into his father's eyes and saw the same pain and fear he felt reflected in their dark depths. John scooted around then sat on the floor next to his son. He leaned his head back until it banged lightly on the wall then he closed his eyes. Their wait didn't last long though because when they heard the doctor calling for Sam to calm down, that he was in a hospital and that they were only trying to help him, nothing was going to keep them from being in that room. The both scurried up from the floor and tore through the curtain.

Dean was to the bed first and when he got a glimpse of his little brother's terrified face, he shoved his way through the nurses ignoring their protests as he reached for Sam's hand. "Hey, Sammy…it's okay…calm down. The machine is helping you breathe right now so don't fight it. Just let it do its job, okay?" he coaxed softly. Sam's gaze turned his way and Dean's heart nearly stopped as he anticipated the fear he knew he would see once his brother saw him. Sam surprised him though. Instead of fear, all Dean saw was relief. When Dean tentatively reached up to cup Sam's uninjured cheek, the teen leaned into the touch. Dean tenderly brushed a tear away from Sam's cheek and smiled as Sam's one good eye closed and his tense body relaxed against the mattress. Someone lightly gripped Dean's arm and began to pull him away and he immediately began to protest until he realized it was John touching him.

"Dean, let them do their job. Sam's calm now so let them take care of him," John said in a hushed voice.

Dean nodded and took one last look at Sam before he allowed John to pull him away from the bed. The two hunters refused to leave the room though and stepped as far out of the way as possible. They watched as most of the nurses filed out of the room, leaving only the doctor and two nurses to tend to their cherished boy. They were thankful that one of those nurses was Jenny and they watched as she carefully tucked Sam back under his bedding. After several minutes, the doctor stepped away from the bed and walked over to the two waiting hunters. Jenny stayed at Sam's bedside while the other nurse quietly left the room. John let out a breath as the doctor approached, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

"Is my son okay? What the hell just happened?" John asked, his dark eyes moving back over to the still form lying quietly in the bed.

"Well, in a nutshell…he woke up. Way sooner than expected," the doctor replied.

"Why did his heart stop?" Dean queried, green eyes narrowed as he intently watched the doctor's face.

"Well, it didn't really stop. In fact, it appears as though it began to race and then Sam went into arrhythmia. We had to perform an electrical cardioversion to get his heart beating in a regular pattern agan."

"Electrical cardioversion?" Dean asked hesitantly.

The doctor smiled tiredly and cocked his head. "We shocked his heart," he offered.

"So, is he going to be okay?" John asked, his deep voice cutting into the conversation.

The doctor glanced over his shoulder at his patient then turned back to the teen's family. "Well, he isn't out of the woods yet, but his vital signs seem to have improved. I'm going to leave the vent in, but we may be able to remove it later in the afternoon if he continues to improve. I'm not quite ready to remove him from the critical list, but we'll see how he progresses over the next 24 hours. I'll be consulting with Dr. Gamers, Sam's surgeon, when he makes his rounds later this morning and then we'll decide how to proceed," the doctor explained. "I am optimistic though…Sam appears to have cleared some hurdles much faster than was anticipated," he added before giving each man a quick handshake and leaving the room.

John and Dean approached the bed and smiled when Jenny gently brushed her fingers through Sam's hair. She looked up and nodded, the middle aged woman beaming, smile bright and genuine as she returned her gaze to her young patient. "He's back with us now. He just needs a lot of rest, but he'll be fine now," she said softly.

"You're sure?" John asked.

"Yes…I'm sure. He'll be waking up before you know it," Jenny answered brightly.

Dean moved around to the side of the bed where Jenny stood and took Sam's hand. He glanced over at the nurse and cleared his throat. "He…uh…he wasn't afraid of me. I…I thought…"

"I told you, he knows that it wasn't you. He may have had a little bit of doubt, but he's over that now."

"So, he won't freak out when he wakes up?"

"Did he freak out when he saw you just now? Or did he calm down and fall asleep, knowing that he was safe?"

Tears rimmed Dean's eyes and he turned and looked down at his brother. "Thank you," he whispered appreciatively before he hooked his chair with his foot and dragged it back over to the bed where he took a seat and once again began his vigil.

John walked Jenny to the door, the tall man taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Thank you for everything," he said gratefully.

Jenny patted John's hand and smiled up at him. "There's no need to thank me, John. You just take care of those boys…they're very special," she said.

John glanced back at his sons and smiled. "Yeah…I know," he said as he returned his eyes to the nurse.

"Well, you better get back to them. I'll be in to check on Sam later," Jenny said before silently leaving the Winchesters.

John returned to the bed then retrieved his chair from where it had been pushed aside. He sat down, glanced over at Dean then leaned back in the chair. He could feel that the tide had turned. The deep feelings of dread had lifted from him and he knew that Jenny was right. Sam would be fine…eventually. He would need a lot of rest and a lot of patience from his family, but John was ready to give him everything he needed to recover fully. There was no doubt that Dean would bend over backwards to give Sam exactly what he needed. John decided that they would go to Bobby's while Sam regained his strength…once he was strong enough to leave the hospital that was. Dean wouldn't go stir crazy there with all the cars there were to work on and John would have a wealth of information to read while watching over Sam. Sam always loved going to Bobby's so John knew that was the best place for all of them to take some down time. It was time for the Winchesters to reconnect, especially father and youngest son, without hunt after hunt getting in the way and John was determined to make things up to both of his sons. He'd been their drill sergeant for so long, he'd forgotten to be the most important thing that they needed…their father.

**Yay, Sam woke up...for a little bit anyway! We'll see how Sam handles everything once he's fully awake. Oh, and we'll see how his family handles things as well. One brother won't handle things as well as the other. So, I hope you'll let me know what you think and I'll get to work on fixing my little plot hole. Take care all :)**

**Cindy**


	6. Chapter 6

**The plot hole is fixed! Yay! Thanks so much to everyone for the wonderful reviews, alerts, favorites, etc. You're all so awesome! Anyway, here's the next chapter. Enjoy.**

**Chapter 6 – Questions**

John looked over his shoulder as the door to Sam's private room opened and Dean walked in, the young man's face slightly red, anger burning in his eyes. Following closely behind Dean, Detective Sano entered the room and immediately glanced at the protective man sitting next to the hospital bed that held the subject of the questioning that had just taken place. John stood and moved between Sam and the detective while Dean went around the bed and took his normal seat, the young man reaching for his brother's hand as Sam gazed nervously up at the serious looking man who was now squaring off against his father.

"Mr. Winchester, I'm going to need to speak with Sam…alone," Detective Sano said as he squared his shoulders and stared the shorter man down.

"He's tired…he's had a long day with physical therapy. This can wait," John replied, his chin jutting out as he glared at the man before him.

Undeterred, the detective spoke again. "This can't wait any longer. You've been putting me off for days now and I'm not going to wait any longer. If you want this matter put to rest, you need to let me talk to your son."

"You have Dean's and my statements…Sammy doesn't know anything so why don't you just leave us alone and find the bastard who did this to my son!" John snapped as he took a step toward the detective.

"Mr. Winchester…"

"Dad…I'll talk to him," Sam's raspy voice called. John looked over his shoulder before turning and walking to his son's bedside. Dean glanced worriedly up at his father before returning his gaze to his little brother's face. He gave Sam's hand a gentle squeeze and smiled softly when Sam glanced over at him. Sam smiled back then turned to look up at his father.

"Sammy…you don't have to talk to him. He's gotten all he needs from Dean and I. You need to sleep, kiddo," John said, his normally gruff voice soft as he tenderly touched Sam's arm.

"Sam is an eyewitness…the only eyewitness and the victim I might remind you…I need his statement," Detective Sano said from where he had stepped up to the end of the bed.

Dean glared angrily up at the detective and pushed to his feet. "Do you think we don't know that he is the victim here! We've been sitting by his bedside ever since that f***ing night! He doesn't know anything! Can't you see how tired he is? How much pain he is in? Just leave him alone!" he snapped, his hand moving to protectively rest on Sam's chest.

Detective Sano glanced over at Dean and frowned. "Look, I understand your concern, but without Sam's statement, we may never know what happened that night. He is the only one who knows for sure what went on inside that motel room…unless you maybe left something out of your statement?" he said evenly.

Dean pulled his hand from Sam's chest and moved toward the detective. A weak grip on his wrist stopped him and he looked down only to be met with the pleading eyes of his baby brother. "Dean…he needs to know what happened and I'm the only one who can tell him. I'll be fine…really," Sam said softly.

Dean closed his eyes and dropped his head for a moment before glancing back up at this brother. "Are you sure, Sammy? You don't have to talk to him right now," he asked.

"I'm going to have to eventually. Might as well get it over with," Sam answered.

"I don't know…you've had a pretty rough day and…"

"And I'm going to have another one tomorrow…and the next day…and the next. I just want to get this done," Sam interrupted.

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by his father's deep voice. "You have ten minutes, Detective Sano and then we're coming back in. I won't have you upsetting my son when he's still recovering so you be careful how you treat him," he demanded.

"Dad, we have to stay…"

"I need to speak with Sam alone so that he can't be influenced by your presence in the room," Detective Sano said.

"No way…we're…"

"Dean, I said he had ten minutes. We'll be right outside the door so if Sam needs us for anything, all he has to do is shout," John said, dark eyes moving to meet surprised green ones.

"But…"

"Ten minutes and then we're coming in," John repeated as he turned his attention back to the detective.

Detective Sano nodded then stepped back from the end of the bed. John looked down at Sam and smiled. "If you need us for anything, you just holler…and if you don't like what's being asked of you, you don't answer. Dean and I will be right outside, okay kiddo?" he said softly.

Sam looked up at his father and nodded. "Okay, Dad. I'll be fine," he answered, seeing the concern in his father's eyes and feeling warmth spread through him.

"Okay," John said before glancing up at the detective and giving him a warning glare. "Dean, come on."

Dean hesitated at Sam's side, his eyes moving from his father then to the detective before settling on Sam. "I'm right out there, Sammy," he said softly.

Sam smiled and nodded. "I know," he replied before turning his attention to the detective.

John and Dean reluctantly left the room, Dean sending one last glance over his shoulder before softly shutting the door behind him. Sam continued to watch as the detective moved around the bed and stood in front of the chair John normally occupied.

"So, what do you want to know?" Sam asked as he warily eyed the detective.

Detective Sano smiled as he opened his notebook and pulled the pen from the binding. "Do you need anything? Water? Do you need the bed adjusted?" he asked.

"I'm fine…let's just get this over with okay," Sam replied.

"Do you mind if I sit?" Detective Sano asked.

"Whatever you want," Sam answered, his tired voice laced with nervousness.

The detective pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down. He glanced over his notes before finally looking up at Sam. "Sam, what happened the night you were attacked?" he asked. "Were you alone…before the attack?"

Sam rolled his head on his pillow and gazed at the detective. "I was alone," he said.

"So, your father and brother weren't there?"

Sam furrowed his forehead and shook his head. "Do you think they would've let this happen if they'd been there?"

The detective shrugged his shoulders as he watched the teen intently. "I don't know your father and brother very well. You'll have to tell me if they'd let that happen…or if they'd…"

"Wait…just stop. Do you honestly think that my family hurt me? Is that what you're trying to imply?" Sam asked incredulously.

"I don't know, Sam. I'm trying to understand why first of all, you were left alone…if you were left alone, and second, if you weren't assaulted by either your father or brother, why was there no forced entry into the room? Why didn't you have any defensive injuries? Why does it appear as if you didn't fight back?" the detective answered.

Sam swallowed nervously and turned his head until he was staring up at the ceiling. "I was alone. My dad and Dean had left me there…I'm old enough to take care of myself..."

"Why did they leave you? Where did they go?"

Sam glanced over and shrugged lightly. "I'm not sure why they left…probably went scouting…I don't know where," he answered.

Detective Sano wrote something in his notebook then looked back up at the teen. "So, they left you and then what? How did whomever did this to you get into your room without forcing their way in?"

Sam lowered his eyes and sighed. "I…I did the one thing my dad always told me not to do…I opened the door," he said.

The detective cocked his head and frowned. "Why did you open the door?" he asked.

Sam looked up, lifted his good arm then rested his hand on his stomach. "I heard something outside. I went to the door and asked if there was anybody there, but nobody answered. I went back to bed, but then I heard it again."

"What was the noise?"

Sam shrugged as he nervously played with the blanket that covered him. "It sounded like an animal or something. I thought maybe it was hurt so I…I opened the door and looked outside, but I didn't see anything. When I turned around, I was hit from behind and knocked back into the room," he said softly.

"Did you see who attacked you?"

Sam shook his head and dropped his eyes once again. "It was dark in the room and I was on my stomach on the floor. He…he asked me where my money was…"

"So it was a male?"

"Yeah…I mean, it sounded like a guy. He was holding me down and he was strong. I…I tried to get him off, but I was dizzy from being hit in the head. I asked what he wanted."

"What did he say?"

"He wanted my money…anything of value. I told him I didn't have anything."

"So, what did he do next?"

"Um…he dragged me up from the floor and threw me onto one of the beds. I jumped up, but he punched me in the face and I fell back onto the bed. He started to look around the room…he went through my jean pockets…looked in all of the drawers…the duffel bags…"

"Did you get a look at him then?"

Sam glanced over and shook his head. "It was dark…and he was wearing some sort of mask."

"How could he see to look for valuables if it was dark in the room?"

"Uh…he had a flashlight…must have gotten it out of his pocket. There was some light coming in through the window, but with his mask, I couldn't see his face." Sam shuffled nervously on the bed, the teen hissing as the movement pulled at the stitches in his stomach.

"Are you okay?" Detective Sano asked.

"I'm fine…just…what else do you want to know?" Sam answered somewhat breathlessly.

"I want to know why a simple robbery turned into you nearly being beaten and strangled to death," the detective replied, the man watching Sam intently.

Sam looked over and met the detective's eyes. "He didn't find anything and he got…he got really mad. He started yelling that I wasted his time and that I would be sorry. He said that he owed someone money or something. I was scared…he just went crazy, then…he…"

"He what, Sam?"

"He attacked me. He picked me up and threw me against the door and before I could even move, he picked me up again and began hitting me. He threw me onto the floor and began choking me, but then he stopped and just stood up. He started kicking me and it hurt so bad…I guess I blacked out after a while. I don't remember anything after that until I woke up here."

Detective Sano leaned forward and eyed the teen critically. "Why didn't you fight back? Your father said that you were trained to protect yourself…why is it that you didn't do anything to stop the attack?"  
>he asked.<p>

Sam swallowed and bit his lower lip. He looked over at the detective and narrowed his eyes. "I told you, he took me by surprise," he said in reply.

"But, you said after he threw you onto the bed, he went through the room looking for money. You should have had time to recover at least somewhat…"

"I had a concussion…if you'd talked to the doctor, you'd know that…and I also told you that he punched me in the face. He was twice my size or more and strong…almost too strong, like maybe he was on drugs or something. I don't know what else to say…if I could have fought back, I would have!"

The detective stood and looked down at Sam. "Sam, are you trying to protect someone? Your father perhaps…or your brother?" he asked coolly.

Sam felt his heart rate pick up as anger burned through him. He pushed up as far as he could from the bed, ignoring the agony the movement brought him and glared up at the man. "My dad and brother would die protecting me! They would never, ever hurt me! Screw you! I want you to leave now! I want you out of my room!" he screamed and instantly the door flew open and John and Dean rushed in.

"What the hell is going on in here!" John shouted as he looked over at his agitated and obviously hurting son before he turned his glare onto the detective. "I told you not to upset him! Look at him! If he's hurt himself because of you, I'll make it my mission to have you fired!" John turned away from the detective and hurried to Sam's bedside, his eyes meeting Dean's as the younger man tried to calm his brother.

"Mr. Winchester, I still have a few questions for Sam…"

"You can go to hell!" Dean snapped as he stood. He would have attacked the man if at that moment the alarm on Sam's heart monitor hadn't started beeping an urgent alarm. He turned back to his brother, the detective all but forgotten as he tried desperately to calm Sam down.

The door to the room burst open and Jenny rushed into the room. "What's going on? Why is he so upset?" Jenny asked angrily as she pushed past the detective and went to Sam's bedside. She checked his vitals as Dean continued to speak softly to his brother and finally, the blaring alarm had stopped and Sam was lying back on the bed, his heart rate returning to a safer level.

John brushed the hair from Sam's eyes then turned toward the detective. "You're done here," he hissed as he moved forward a step.

"Like I said, I still have a few questions…"

"You've had your ten minutes. You're done questioning my son."

"There are a few inconsistencies that I need to clear up."

"He was beaten nearly to death…do you really expect him to have a crystal clear memory of what happened? Did he tell you that either his brother or I beat him?"

"No…he said he was alone and that someone else attacked him when he opened the door."

"Then you have no more reason to be here. Go find the person who hurt my boy and leave us alone," John snarled.

"Mr. Winchester…"

"Am I hearing this right?" Jenny suddenly asked as she moved from the side of the bed and stood in front of the detective. "Are you actually accusing these men of hurting this boy?"

"I have to consider all possibilities," the detective answered.

Jenny put her hands on her hips and glared up at the detective. "I've been doing this job for a good many years, long before you even thought about what you were going to do with your life, and I've become a pretty darned good judge of character. I've never in all my years seen a father and brother as devoted as these two are to that sweet boy. If there's one thing I am one hundred percent sure about, it's this…John and Dean Winchester are in no way responsible for Sam's injuries. Now, you have all you need from them. Sam needs to rest and you need to do your job and find the person who hurt him."

"That's what I'm trying to do…"

"Not by harassing this family you aren't. They've been through enough already don't you think? Sam told you it wasn't his family…what more do you need?" Jenny asked.

"I need…"

"Do you have any evidence…any at all that shows these two men may be guilty of this horrible crime?"

"No…there's no physical evidence…"

"And you have the statement of the victim himself saying that it was a stranger who hurt him, not his family so you have no reason to continue accusing them."

"He may be covering for them for fear…"

"I'm not covering for them," Sam's exhausted voice interrupted. "They did not hurt me. They had nothing to do with what happened to me."

"Sam, are you sure? You don't have to be afaid."

"I will never be afraid of my family…they would never hurt me so please, just…leave us alone now," Sam whispered, the teen fighting to stay awake, his eyes blinking slowly up at the detective.

Detective Sano must have seen something in those eyes because after a few moments he nodded and closed his notebook. "I'm sorry for upsetting you, Sam. It wasn't my intention at all. I apologize for my assumptions, but you have to understand that I'm just doing my job. I think I have everything I need from you all and I'll keep you updated on any progress in the case," he said.

The detective looked at Dean, but received only a glare in return so he turned to John, expecting the same thing. When John reached out his hand, the detective was somewhat nervous to take it, but finally he did and received a firm shake in return.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do for my son and I hope you understand that I'm just trying to protect him. I messed up before, leaving him like that and I failed to protect him then…now, I'm not going to let anybody else hurt him in any way," John said as he led the detective to the door.

Detective Sano nodded and reached for the door handle. He turned and gave Sam one last look before pulling the door open and stepping out into the hall, the door shutting silently behind him. John returned to Sam's bedside and gazed down at his son. "You okay, kiddo?" he asked as tired, hazel eyes looked up at him.

"I'm fine…just tired," Sam answered.

"Get some sleep then. Dean and I will be right here when you wake up," John said, a fond smile curling his lips.

Sam smiled and let his eyes drift shut, his breathing evening out within moments. John looked over at Jenny as she stood at the end of the bed and smiled. "Thank you," he said. "I can't even begin to tell you how much you've done for my family. I don't know how I can ever repay you."

"There's no need for any of that. I've grown quite fond of this young one here and was only doing what needed to be done. You can repay me by taking care of this little family of yours," Jenny replied. She turned and left the Winchesters before either John or Dean could say another word.

Dean looked over at John and let out a shaky breath. "You think that jerk is going to stay away?" he asked.

"I don't think he'll be bothering us anymore," John said with guarded certainty.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x

**One week later**

"Thank you, Detective Sano…I appreciate it," John said into his phone as he stood near the door to Sam's room. He listened for a few moments before speaking again. "Yeah, we'll be heading out this afternoon…just as soon as Sam's walking papers are done. You have my number if you need anything else from me." John flipped his phone shut then turned and headed back to Sam's bed. He smiled down at his fully dressed son and ruffled the fidgeting teen's hair. "You ready to get out of this place, Sammy?" he asked lightly.

Sam nodded as he smiled up at his father. "You know I am…when are we leaving?" he answered.

"As soon as they bring the paperwork, kiddo," Dean said from across the bed. Dean looked up at his father and cocked his head. "So, that was the dick detective on the phone?" he asked, his eyes lit with still smoldering anger.

"Dean, he's doing his job," John answered, then held his hand up when Dean opened his mouth to speak. "And, he believes he's solved Sam's case," he added.

"Huh? What do you mean?" Sam asked, his forehead furrowed in confusion.

"Well, seems last night a man was attacked in his hotel room. He was robbed and beaten pretty bad. Detective Sano believes it's the same man who attacked you," John answered with a relieved grin.

"Are you kidding? That's great! I mean…as long as the guy who got robbed is okay," Dean exclaimed excitedly.

"The guy is going to be fine according to Sano. Anyway, I guess when the perpetrator was asked if he'd beaten a teenager a few weeks ago in a botched robbery, the guy couldn't say whether he had or not. Apparently he was so high he couldn't even remember his own name," John said.

Sam looked up and frowned. "Sammy, what's wrong?" John asked worriedly.

"I don't want this guy to go to jail for something he didn't do, Dad. I mean…he didn't hurt me," Sam answered softly.

Dean shook his head and grasped Sam's arm. "Sam, he did hurt that other guy so he deserves to go to jail," he said.

"Yeah…but not for hurting me. I mean, what if they charge him with attempted murder or something?" Sam cried.

John sighed as he reached down and touched Sam's hand. He smiled when Sam glanced up at him. "Sam, I understand, but there's nothing we can do now. They're charging this guy with your attack and that will keep them off of our backs. For all we know, he very well could have done this a lot of times before now and just hasn't been caught. Seems like maybe he's an addict who robs people to fund his habit," he explained.

Sam sighed as he laid back on the bed. "Yeah, I guess, I…I don't know…it just doesn't seem right he gets punished for something he didn't do," he said.

Dean looked up at John then turned his attention to his brother. "Sam, if it keeps him off the street where he can't hurt, or possibly kill anybody else, then I think it's a good thing. I know it won't do any good to tell you not to let it bother you, but at least try okay?"

Sam glanced over at Dean and nodded. "I'll try, Dean," he whispered.

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I kinda feel bad for the guy too. I mean, I'm the one who hurt you…I should be the one punished," Dean said softly as he dropped his eyes, the young man finding it hard to meet his baby brother's eyes.

"What! No, Dean…don't say that…it wasn't you and you shouldn't be punished for anything! You don't hurt innocent people, that guy does so maybe it is good that he gets put away longer…even if he is innocent of my attack, like Dad said, he's probably hurt people before. Just…just don't keep blaming yourself, Dean…please," Sam cried, his hazel eyes wide as he stared pleadingly at his brother.

Dean looked up at the alarm he heard in Sam's voice and gripped his arm. "Sam, calm down okay…I'm sorry. I know it was the witch…I know that. Don't get worked up," he said as he forced a smiled on his face.

"It was, Dean. It wasn't you and I don't blame you at all."

"I know, kiddo. Let's just forget I even said that okay? Does that sound good? I mean, we can't put a damper on the day you get freed from this pit can we?"

Sam smiled and nodded his head. "It's forgotten," he said softly.

"Good, now when the heck do we get out of here?" Dean replied, his green eyes raising to meet John's.

John looked toward the door and shrugged. "Should be any minute now. I hope it's soon…I want to get on the road so we can reach Bobby's at a decent hour. He's got everything ready for us, we just have to get there."

The Winchesters waited another fifteen minutes before the door to Sam's room opened and Jenny came in pushing a wheelchair. She allowed the two men to help their youngest into the chair then took the handles from Dean. She gave him a stern look when he began to protest being pushed aside.

"Now Dean, I know that you consider it your job to take care of your brother, but hospital policy states an orderly or nurse employed at the hospital has to push the patient out of the facility. Normally, we have an orderly do it, but I want to get as much time with my little man as I can before I never see you all again. You can give me that much, can't you?" Jenny asked, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief as she looked over at the sullen young man.

Dean stared at the nurse before finally giving her a slight grin and stepping aside. "Yeah…okay," he replied with chagrin.

Jenny winked at the young man then waited for him to open the door before she pushed and eager Sam out into the hallway. She talked the entire trip to the exit of the hospital and the wait time for John to retrieve the car so they could load Sam up for the trip to Bobby's. Once Sam was safely tucked into the back seat, she crouched down and took his good hand. "You be good, Sam. Do all of your exercises, but don't overdo it," she said.

Sam smiled and gave the nurse's hand a light squeeze. "I will, I promise. Thanks Jenny. You're the only thing I'm gonna miss about this hospital," he said in reply.

"Oh my…such a sweet child. I'm going to miss you too, but I'm so happy that you're getting out of here. You need to get some color back into your face and some meat on your bones and you're not going to do it lying around here," Jenny said before leaning into the car and giving Sam a tender kiss on the forehead. "Take care of that family of yours, you hear?"

"I will…bye, Jenny."

"Bye, Sam," Jenny said. She looked up and met first Dean's then John's eyes. "You all take care…drive safely," she said.

"We will, and thanks for everything, Jenny," John said before ducking into the car behind the steering wheel.

"Thanks for taking such great care of my brother, " Dean said as he reached out and gently grasped Jenny's arm.

"It was a pleasure," Jenny said, returning Dean's grateful smile.

Dean nodded and slid into the front passenger seat. He looked over the seat and grinned at his smiling brother. "You ready, Sammy?" he asked.

"I've never been more ready in my life," was Sam's answer.

Dean chuckled then looked back out the door at Jenny. "Bye, Jenny," he said.

"Bye, Dean," Jenny answered as she took a few steps back.

Dean shut the door and the car rolled away from the curb. Jenny watched until the car disappeared from sight before she smiled and shook her head. She turned and pushed the wheelchair back into the hospital, the middle aged woman already missing her young patient and his family. She prayed silently that she never would have the need to see them again, at least not for the reason they had come into her life to begin with. She shook her head from the thoughts that filled her mind and made her way back up to the PICU. She had patients waiting for her and she was not one to keep anybody waiting.

**Well, I hope that was okay for everyone. There are two chapters left, so...this one is almost done. Thanks for reading.**

**Cindy**


	7. Chapter 7

**So, don't kill me or anything, but...I kinda forgot about posting this next chapter. In my defense, it was a crazy week at work and I was lucky to remember my own name at times! LOL Thanks for all the lovely reviews on the last chapter...seems I filled the plot hole well as several remarked that you couldn't find any plot holes :D Yay! Anyway, on with the story.**

**Cindy**

**Chapter 7 – Guilt is a Four Letter Word**

"Dean, I'm fine. Go out and work on a car, or just go out and do whatever it is that you do when you go out. You don't have to wait on me hand and foot and you don't have to be stuck in this house day in and day out. I'll be fine for a few hours without you," Sam cried softly as Dean fluffed the pillow behind him for the tenth time in less than an hour.

Dean looked over at his brother then proceeded to pull the thin blanket that covered Sam's equally thin frame up over his stomach and tucked it in around him. "That better, Sammy? Are you cold? Do you need another blanket?" he asked, completely ignoring the indignant roll of Sam's eyes.

"Dean I…"

"Are you hungry? Do you want me to make you a bowl of soup or a sandwich or something?" Dean interrupted. "You really need to put on some weight, Sammy. One strong little breeze and you'll be blown away."

"I'm not hungry and I'm not cold. I fine, Dean. Please, just go do something…anything," Sam answered. "Dad and Bobby are here…they won't let anything happen to me. You need to get out…get away from me for awhile."

Dean glared up at Sam and sat down on the coffee table in front of the couch Sam was stretched out on, a large book resting on his lap. "I don't need to get away from you. I don't want to get away from you, okay?"

"But, Dean…Dad and…"

"Dad and Bobby can't take care of you like I can! They shouldn't take care of you! I should!" Dean snapped before readjusting the pillow that Sam's broken and casted arm lay upon.

Sam lifted his hand and gently grasped Dean's forearm. He smiled sadly when Dean's green eyes met his hazel ones. "Dean…it wasn't you. You didn't do this to me…she did. You couldn't help it. You have to stop blaming yourself 'cause I certainly don't blame you. I thought we had this all settled the day I left the hospital," he said softly, hazel eyes pleading with his brother to hear him.

Dean dropped his eyes and swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. "I should have been stronger…should have been able to stop myself," he whispered, voice hoarse with emotion.

Sam sighed and squeezed Dean's arm. "You're the strongest person I know, but Dean…nobody could have fought the witches curse and won. I know you fought…"

"I should have fought harder!" Dean suddenly yelled, face turning red with anger causing Sam to flinch away from his brother. "You don't understand, Sammy! I almost killed you! I had your blood all over me! You have no idea how it feels…no idea how I feel. You could have died…almost did and it doesn't really matter if it was a witches curse or not…I should have fought harder. I should have told Dad something was wrong when I felt it. If I'd have said something, he never would have left and I never would have hurt you!" Dean pulled his arm out of Sam's grasp and lifted his hands to his face. He brushed his fingers through his hair then looked up into the wide, frightened eyes of his little brother.

"Dean…I…"

"Don't, Sam. Just…don't," Dean snapped before pushing to his feet and stomping towards the door. He grabbed his jacket and pulled it on then whipped the door open.

"Dean! Where are you going!" Sam cried out from his place on the couch.

"Out…like you wanted," Dean answered without looking over.

Dean stepped out onto the porch and shut the door behind him. Sam listened to the booted footsteps as his brother descended the steps and few moments later, he heard the rumble of the Impala as it roared to life. His eyes filled as he listened to the car peel away and before long he was left in silence, tears slowly trickling down his reddened cheeks. Sudden movement from the kitchen doorway had him hastily wiping the tears away. He looked over and saw his father standing in the doorway watching him, his expression showing deep concern. John blew out a breath and started across the room. He sat on the coffee table and reached across, draping his hand over Sam's blanket covered knee.

"Hey, kiddo…you alright?" John asked in his deep, raspy voice.

"Dean's mad at me," came Sam's whispered reply.

John squeezed Sam's knee and smiled at his son. "Nah, he's not mad at you, Sammy. He's got a lot on his mind right now. You've just got to give him time to work it all out," he said.

"It's not his fault, Dad. I told him that, but he won't listen to me and now he's mad! I don't know what to do. I wanted him to get out of here for awhile, but not like this. Not because he's mad. I just wanted him to take a break from taking care of me for just a little bit…maybe have a little fun? I don't know...I just…I always mess everything up!" Sam cried as he turned his head away and stared at the back of the couch.

John reached up and gripped Sam's chin with his fingers then gently moved his head around until Sam was looking at him again, his wet, hazel eyes breaking John's heart as they gazed expectantly up at him. "Sam, you didn't mess anything up. You're worried about your brother and he knows that. Dean isn't mad at you, he's just upset with this whole situation. He's upset that one of the baddies used him to hurt you and he couldn't do anything to stop it. You know how he is, especially when it comes to your safety. Just give him time…let him take care of you the way he needs to right now. I know it's kind of a pain, but it's how he deals with things," he explained, his hand moving from Sam's chin to tenderly brush through his unruly mop of hair. "I kinda need to fuss over you a little bit myself and now that Dean is gone for a bit, maybe you'll let me do that?" he added hopefully.

Sam cocked his head and gazed up at his father with confusion. "Why do you need to fuss over me? You weren't to blame either," he asked softly.

"You're my son, Sammy and sometimes a dad just likes to fuss over his kids…at least he should want to fuss over them, and besides that, I sensed something was off with your brother, but I just brushed it off as him being tired. I felt something wasn't right yet still I left you two alone. If I had stayed…"

"Dad…this was a curse. If it hadn't happened that night, it would have eventually. You and Dean need to stop blaming yourselves and stop saying if this and if that. If I had killed the witch right out, she never would have had the chance to put the curse on Dean, so I guess you can blame me for what happened," Sam said as he carefully straightened his back so he wasn't slouched so much on the couch.

"Sammy…you are completely blameless in this entire situation and…"

"And so are you and Dean! There was a witch who was hurting people and we took care of her. We had no way of knowing she would curse Dean. You didn't know she had when you left and Dean didn't know she had either! If everyone would just stop blaming themselves, we could move on from this!" Sam cried breathlessly through clenched teeth, a fine sheen of sweat beading on his face.

John quickly knelt beside the couch and cupped the nape of Sam's neck, his dark eyes watching Sam worriedly. "Sammy…calm down. You're going to hurt yourself if you get worked up. Those ribs are still healing and so is your jaw," he coaxed as he moved his hand down from Sam's neck and gently pulled him forward so he could rub his back.

Sam rested his forehead on John's shoulder and closed his eyes. His ribs hurt to the point where it was hard for him to catch his breath and his jaw ached from the unfamiliar use. He sighed as the gentle pressure from his father's hand worked his weary muscles. When his body became lax, John carefully pulled him back and smiled when he saw that Sam had fallen asleep. He gently laid him out on the couch, taking the book from his lap and setting it on the table. He tucked the blanket around his body then pulled a chair close so he could watch over his son as he slept. The bruises were fading on his face, even the ones over his broken cheekbone and eye, but John could still see them in his mind's eye and it made him clench his hands in anger. He wished for the millionth time that he could resurrect the witch so he could kill her all over again for what she'd done to his family. He'd nearly lost Sam and Dean was so wracked with guilt that he was barely functioning. The only thing keeping the elder sibling going was the need to take care of Sam's every need. John figured it was high time he had a talk with his eldest. The young man couldn't go on like he was. His inability to cast away the guilt was not only hurting him, but his little brother too and John knew that Sam would never fully heal until he knew Dean no longer blamed himself for what happened.

John reached for the book Sam had been reading and opened it to page one. He shook his head as he read over the subject matter. _Demon Possession and Exorcisms _was not the type of book for a teenager to be reading and John hated the fact that the boy even knew about such things. John glanced over at Sam as the teen sighed softly in his sleep. He smiled then turned his attention to the book and began to read. He'd be there if Sam awoke and needed something, the man knowing he was no replacement for Dean, but cherishing the chance to take care of his baby without the boy's mother hen watching his every move. He knew it wouldn't last, that Dean would not stay away for very long, but he would enjoy it while he could. He shook his head and continued to read, his ears alert for any sound of discomfort from his sleeping teen, eyes moving over to Sam every now and then before returning to the tiny faded print on the pages. Finally though, when he checked on Sam for the fifth time in less than five minutes, John closed the book and set it back on the table. He scooted down a bit in his chair then rested his arm over the armrest of the couch, his fingers lightly brushing Sam's hair as he closed his eyes and listened to the soft sounds of Sam's breathing, the hunter eternally grateful that he still had this chance, that his baby boy was still here to watch over.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Dean slipped silently into Bobby's house and immediately made his way to where he had left Sam hours earlier. He'd stayed away as long as he could, finding a bar, drinking a beer or two and playing some pool to take his mind off of his assumed failure. His father and brother had no clue what he was going through. They thought that he should just be able to forget what had happened and move on, but he couldn't do that. Not when every time he allowed his mind to wander from the task of taking care of Sam, the images of what the witch had made him do filled his head. At the beginning, he couldn't remember what had transpired, but gradually over the first week of Sam's hospitalization, he'd begun to remember. A flash here, a memory there, but it was enough to bring him to his knees the first time it happened. Luckily, he'd been in the restroom and nobody had seen. He found the only thing that kept the memories at bay was devoting every waking moment to catering to Sam's every need. He knew it had to be wearing on Sam, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't bear to see what he had done while under the witches curse. He could feel it in his hands as he hit his baby brother, could hear as bones broke and his brother cried, begging him to stop.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and forced the memories back into the recesses of his mind. He opened his eyes and gazed down at his sleeping brother and smiled fondly. He spared a quick glance to his father who was sprawled out in the most uncomfortable looking position possible, his arm draped over the arm of the couch, lax hand dangling next to Sam's ear. Dean shook his head and chuckled lightly. He leaned over and gave John a quick shake then watched as dark eyes immediately sprang open and shot up to look at him. "Dean?" John rasped.

"Dad…go to bed…I'll take it from here," Dean instructed quietly. "Thanks for watching Sammy for me," he added.

John stretched his arms over his head then looked down at his youngest son. He slowly pushed up from the chair and groaned as his stiff back muscles complained at the movement. "We need to talk about some things," he said as he cast his gaze to his eldest son.

Dean frowned, the young man knowing exactly what his father wanted to talk about. "Dad…there's nothing to talk about, okay?" he said as he attempted to move around his father.

John grabbed Dean's arm and held him in place. "Do you even get how upset this is making Sam? The stress your guilt is putting on him? He can't fully heal with this hanging over his head, Dean. You need to move on. I know how hard this is for you, but you have to do this for Sammy. Fluffing his pillows and waiting on him hand and foot is only dealing with his physical comforts. It's not helping him with the psychological effects of the attack. If anything, it's making things worse for him!" John snapped before he could stop himself.

"Dad…don't…please," Sam's sleepy, slurred voice sounded.

Both men looked down to see two bleary hazel eyes staring up at them. "Ah, Sammy…I'm sorry. Didn't mean to wake you up," John said as he sat down on the coffee table and took Sam's hand.

"It's okay, Dad…just..."

"Sammy, we should get you to bed," Dean interrupted as he too moved to sit down on the coffee table.

Sam looked up at him and smiled slightly. "Dean…I'm sorry. I wanted you to go have some fun…not get mad at me. I didn't mean for it to sound like I didn't appreciate everything you're doing for me," he said softly.

"Sammy…I wasn't mad at you. I'm just upset about all this crap. It sucks and I don't know what to do to make it better for you. I'm trying so hard, but apparently I'm just making it worse," Dean replied, the young man casting a sideways glance toward his father who at his words dropped his head down to stare at the floor.

"No…you're not, Dean. You're doing everything for me and I'm so thankful. I just…I just want you to stop blaming yourself for something you had no control over…that's all. Please, Dean."

"I…I want to, Sam. You have no idea how much I want to put this behind me, but I…I just can't. I remember everything that happened now and…"

"You remember ?" John asked with surprise. "For how long?"

Dean looked over and bit his lower lip. He'd hoped that his family would never have to know that he remembered what happened, but he should have known that would never work. If he were to make them understand why he couldn't just let it go, they needed to know what he knew. "I started getting flashes a few days after the attack. By the end of the first week of Sammy being in the hospital, I remembered everything," he explained, his voice hitching slightly on the last word he spoke.

"Dean…I'm sorry," Sam muffled softly, his dewy, sorrow filled eyes gazing forlornly up at his brother.

Dean smiled sadly and reached out to pat Sam's leg. "Nothin' for you to be sorry about, kiddo. I'm the one who's sorry," he replied.

"But, you have nothing to be sorry for either, Dean. It wasn't you...it was her," Sam cried pleadingly.

"Uh…I think maybe we should have this conversation in the morning. I don't want you getting worked up, Sam," John suggested as he watched his youngest son worriedly.

"Dad, I'm fine. I…"

"I think Dad's right, Sam. You need to get some sleep. We can talk more tomorrow," Dean interrupted.

"No!" Sam snapped as he pushed himself up as best he could, the teen hissing as the movement jarred his ribs, shooting pain through his chest. "We…we…"

"Sammy…take it easy," Dean cried as he jumped up and helped his little brother sit up. He pulled the pillows up to support Sam's back then when he was satisfied that his brother was comfortable, he sat back down.

Sam looked up first at his father then his eyes settled on his brother. "You need to tell us everything you remember, Dean. All of it," he said softly, fearfully.

Dean's eyes widened and he shook his head. "Sammy…no. I can't…I can't tell you what I did. You don't need to know that…you've suffered enough," he said forcefully.

"So have you, Dean. Maybe if you tell us, you'll be able to forget and then you can move on," Sam persisted, hazel eyes taking on the patented puppy dog look that got him what he wanted nearly every time he used it, whether he knew he was using it or not.

"You were there, Sam…why…"

"Because, you need to talk about it, Dean. You need to say what you remember. I remember some of it, but not all…not after I passed out. I don't know what you were feeling at the time…not really," Sam said.

"Then maybe it would be best that you didn't know. Why burden you with that?" Dean asked, the young man clearly not wanting to go down this path.

"Look…I know it was bad, Dean…how could I not. The point is that you need to get this out so you can heal."

"But…"

"I think Sam is right, Dean. If you tell us then we can help you," John said as he repositioned himself onto the chair so that Dean could move closer to Sam.

Dean glanced over at his father, his eyes showing all of the fear and sorrow he'd been holding onto for the past weeks. "I don't know if I can," he whispered.

"Please, Dean…for me?" Sam pleaded.

Dean cast his gaze to his brother and once he met his eyes, he knew he'd been beaten. He couldn't deny his Sammy anything, not even this. He dropped his head and began to speak. "I…I remember having a dream and…oh, God…I…I hated you so badly in my dream, Sam…I…I wanted you dead and then…I woke up and you were there leaning over me. You said I was having a nightmare and I just…I lost it. I p-punched you in the face and you…you flew off the bed and then…then I was pulling you up from the floor and slamming you into the wall. You hit your head, hard, but…I didn't care…I wanted to hurt you. I said horrible things to you…I blamed you for Mom and…and I told you I wished you'd never been born, Sammy."

Sam stifled the sob that threatened to break free and reached for Dean's hand. Dean gripped Sam's hand like it was a lifeline as he stared into the younger sibling's eyes. "I can't do this, Sammy. I…"

"You have to, Dean…please," Sam said, hazel eyes wide as he stared at his brother.

Dean swallowed deeply then nodded reluctantly. "Okay…uh…I…I threw you across the room and you hit the door. You tried to crawl away…to get away, but…god…you were already so hurt and…I grabbed you and pulled you back. You kicked me and I remember the rage I felt…the absolute hatred. I made you suffer for that. I hit you over and over and over and I told you that I hated you, that Dad hated you. I told you I wanted you out of our lives and you…you knew…you said that it wasn't me. I was beating you and you were worried about me…you begged me to fight it, but I didn't listen…I…"

"You couldn't hear me, Dean…the curse wouldn't let you hear me," Sam corrected as he gave Dean's hand a light squeeze.

Dean shook his head and continued. "I hit you so hard then you were on the floor at the foot of the beds and I…I started to strangle you, but…but I stopped because I wanted you to die slow and painful. I got up and began to kick you over and over…wherever I could connect…it didn't matter, Sammy…I just kept kicking and you tried to protect yourself, but you were so weak and…there was blood everywhere…and then I finally stopped. I knew you were dying and I was glad…oh, God…I was happy. I watched you struggle to breathe and then I just stepped over you and went back to bed." Dean dropped his head and began to cry. He looked up at his brother and saw only love and sympathy in Sam's hazel eyes. He didn't see the fear and hatred that should be there…only love and it nearly tore him apart. "I…went to sleep listening to you dying…struggling to breathe and here you are worrying about me. Please forgive me, Sammy…please," he cried pleadingly.

Sam sat up straighter with the help of his stunned father and leaned toward his brother. "I forgive you even though there's nothing to forgive, Dean, but I do need one thing from you…just one thing," he said softly.

Dean looked up and gazed hopefully at his brother, the young man feeling amazingly like a weight had been lifted from him. "Anything, Sam…anything you need," he said.

Sam smiled warmly as he squeezed Dean's hand again. "I need you to forgive yourself," he whispered.

**Ahhh, angst galore! Now that's what I'm talking about! One more chapter to go folks and then this one is finished. For those reading And the Deal Goes On, I should be posting later today or tomorrow. I'm almost finished with the next chapter then just need to proofread and fix any mistakes I find then it will be posted. So, let me know what you thought of this chapter and I'll get right to work on Deal. Loves~~**

**Cindy**


	8. Chapter 8

**Well, here it is...the end of the story. Can't tell you all how much I appreciate the support I've received on this one...the comments have been awesome and the ones from the last chapter actually brought me to tears. I don't know what I'd do if I ever had to give all of this up. Thanks to all of the readers and reviewers. So...on with the story.**

**Cindy**

**Chapter 8 – Epilogue - On the Road Again**

Dean hurried around the Impala and slid into the driver's seat, his gaze immediately going to the passenger in the seat beside him. Sam's legs were tucked under a blanket borrowed from Bobby, the teen huffing at the indignity of it all. Dean chuckled lightly and reached across the seat and good naturedly gave him a soft punch to the shoulder. Sam turned and glared, but the slight smile on his face stripped all seriousness away from the irritation he was trying to portray.

"Don't be so crabby, Sammy…you know I just don't want you to catch a cold or anything," Dean chirped before turning his gaze past Sam and through the open window to where his father and Bobby stood talking a good ten feet away.

"I'm not a child, Dean…I don't need a blanket. You don't catch a cold from getting cold anyway," Sam huffed half heartedly as he too turned to watch the two older hunters converse.

"Just humor your big brother why don't ya. You know you're still not fully recovered," Dean said as he turned his attention back to Sam.

Sam shook his head and sighed. "Yeah, I know. I just want to be done with all of this. It sucks," he replied apologetically.

"I know it does, Sammy…but you've come a long way this past month. You'll be up and around like nothing ever happened before you know it," Dean said. He leaned across the seat when he saw his father and Bobby walking toward the car.

John leaned down and glanced from Sam to Dean. "So, we all ready to move? Sammy, you doing good?" he asked as his dark gaze returned to Sam.

"I'm fine, Dad," Sam answered, the patented eye roll once again making an appearance.

John chuckled and reached up and gave Sam's hair a good ruffle before looking over at Dean. Sam huffed and mumbled under his breath about not being a baby, but John ignored him as he met Dean's eyes. "Okay…so we'll go about 400 miles today. I think that'll be more than enough riding in the car for Sammy and…"

"Dad…I can sit in a car and do nothing just as easily as I can sit on Bobby's couch and do nothing and I basically do that all day long. We can go farther than 400 miles," Sam protested.

Both John and Dean turned amused eyes on Sam and smiled. "How about we play it by…oh…let's say, Dean's eyes and ears, okay?" John said. "If he thinks you look as though you can go further, then we'll keep going, but if he thinks you need to rest, then we'll stop."

Sam shook his head and gave an exasperated sigh. "Oh, great," he grumbled. "We won't make it past Bobby's driveway if you leave it up to him," he continued grouchily.

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy…who fed you crabby flakes today?" Dean asked with a grin.

Sam looked over at his brother and cocked his head. "I just don't want to be treated like I'm gonna break or like I'm some fragile piece of china. I'm fine to travel way more than 400 miles is all I'm saying," he said indignantly.

"Well, we'll see how it goes. Maybe I won't want to go further today. It's been awhile since we've driven any kind of distance. Maybe I'll get tired before you do," Dean offered with a raise of one eyebrow.

Sam chuckled as he smacked Dean lightly on the arm. "Yeah…right. If I was one hundred percent, you'd be driving well into tomorrow morning, Dean, and you know it," he said softly.

"Yeah, you're probably right, but the fact is…you're not one hundred percent yet. You will be, but for right now, we have to consider that you're still healing…right, Dad?"

"Dean's right, kiddo. I know you want to go back to the way things were, but it's going to take time to get there. Just be patient with your old man and overprotective big brother okay?" John answered as he gazed fondly at his youngest son.

Sam sighed and leaned back in his seat. "Yeah…okay. I'm sorry…I know you're both just looking out for me."

"We know it's frustrating for you, Sam. We've both been laid up before so we know what you're feeling. Just give it a little more time," John said.

Sam nodded and watched as John pushed back from the window and stepped aside so Bobby could say his goodbyes. Bobby leaned down and glanced over at Dean. "You don't be mean to your brother, you got it, boy?" he said with a stern look.

Dean gasped and looked at Bobby with mock hurt in his green eyes. "I'm offended, old man. I am never mean to this sweet, adorable child and the fact that you would even say that just hurts me like you wouldn't believe."

"Yeah…uh huh," Bobby murmured before turning his attention to Sam. He chuckled at the look of disgust on Sam's face then he reached in and gently patted the teen's shoulder. "You take care of yourself, kid. The next time I see you at my doorstep, I want you to be walking of your own accord, not being carried in okay?" he said with a concerned tone.

Sam smiled warmly and nodded. "'kay, Bobby. Thanks for everything," he said in reply.

"No need for thanks, kid…just keep yourself and your family all in one piece."

"Okay."

Bobby glanced over at Dean and nodded then pulled back from the window. He waved to John then turned and walked back to his porch. He mounted the stairs then watched as the Winchesters drove away. He knew it was wishful thinking, but he hoped that the next time he saw the family it would be under happier circumstances. He knew the line of work they were all in didn't leave much room for happy circumstances, but he could hope anyway. With that thought in mind he turned and entered his house and began to clean up all of the evidence that reminded him of just how close they all had come to losing their youngest family member.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x

It was two hours into their drive from Bobby's house and Sam had been sleeping for half of it. Dean glanced over and smiled softly. Whether Sam wanted to admit it or not, he was fragile right now. His injuries had been life threatening and the kid just didn't understand, or wouldn't admit that it took time to bounce back from that kind of serious injury. Dean understood how frustrating it must be for his brother…feeling helpless and needing help to do the most mundane of things, but it wouldn't be forever. Sam just needed to be patient. Dean had backed off a bit on his mother henning, allowing his brother to do some things for himself…just as long as there wasn't any danger of further hurting himself. The flashbacks of that horrible night almost two months prior had tapered off, but they hadn't stopped completely and Dean was pretty certain they never would. How could he ever truly forget what he'd done under the witch's control? The few occasions when he'd allowed himself to think about it, all of the images had come back to him and he'd been left sobbing uncontrollably. Luckily, each time he'd been alone to let his sorrows out in privacy. Now, the only time he had trouble keeping the memories of that night at bay were the nights when Sam would have nightmares and would cry out for his brother to stop hurting him. Dean knew Sam was dreaming of the attack, but when he'd awaken, the kid couldn't remember anything about the dream. Thank God for small favors Dean would always think afterwards.

There were things that Dean wondered about, but was afraid to bring up to his brother. He remembered all of the things that Jenny had told them. That Sam had to make a decision that would determine whether he returned to them or died. He wondered if Sam remembered anything from when he was in the coma…if he recalled dreaming…if he heard his brother's voice. Many times Dean had wanted to ask, but had stopped himself. He wasn't sure how Sam would react and the kid had been so weak and ill that Dean didn't want to take any chance with his health. A soft moan from the passenger seat brought Dean out of his thoughts and he glanced over and smiled as sleepy hazel eyes opened and immediately looked his way.

"Hey, kiddo. You have a nice nap?" Dean asked.

"Uh…yeah. How long did I sleep?" Sam replied softly.

"Just about an hour or so. You should try to go back to sleep," Dean answered.

"No…I'm okay. 'm not tired," Sam said as he straightened himself in the seat.

Dean chuckled as he cast another quick glance over at his brother. "Okay…you want to listen to some music?" he asked.

"Uh…no, I'm good. You can if you want to though," Sam answered.

Dean considered it then shook his head. "Nah…kinda like the quiet right now," he said.

"Oh…okay," Sam said, his gaze moving to the scenery outside his window.

They drove in silence for a while then Dean looked over at Sam and cleared his throat. When Sam glanced at him he smiled slightly. "Hey, Sammy…can I ask you something?" he asked finally.

Sam looked over and shrugged his shoulders. "Sure…what do you want to ask me?" he replied.

"Um…do you remember anything from…uh…from when you were in the coma?"

Sam ducked his head and seemed to consider the question quite seriously. Finally, he looked over at Dean. "I don't remember anything after I...um...after I passed out. Why?" he answered nervously.

Dean glanced over and pursed his lips before returning his eyes to the road. "I'm sorry…we don't need to talk about this," Dean said apologetically.

"No, it's okay, Dean. I just…I don't remember anything…no matter how hard I try to," Sam said.

"So…you don't remember if you dreamed anything?"

"No…nothing. I remember the motel room and Dad left…you were asleep, but then you started having a bad nightmare so I woke you up. The rest...well...you know. I'm sorry, Dean...I..."

"It's okay, Sammy. I know I had no control. Believe me, I wish you didn't remember. I wish I didn't remember. I was just curious if you remembered any dream you may have had is all."

Sam looked over curiously and cocked his head. "Why? Should I remember anything?"

Dean glanced over and shook his head. "Uh…no…I was just wondering is all. I've read that sometimes when people are in comas or close to death that they have dreams or something like that and I just wondered if you did."

"Dean…what's going on? Why are you really asking me this?"

Dean sighed and cursed himself under his breath. He should have never brought this up. He should have known that Sam would see right through him and know there was something behind his question. He glanced over and sighed. "When you were in the hospital your nurse, Jenny…she…uh…she told us some things," he reluctantly said.

"What things?" Sam asked.

"She knew about the witch, Sammy. She knew what happened…she's the one who told us that it was a curse," Dean answered as he nervously ran his tongue over his lower lip.

"What? What do you mean she knew?"

"She said she can see things. She knew what happened and she said…she…"

"She what, Dean?"

"She said that you had to make a decision. When you were in your coma."

"What decision?"

"A decision on whether to come back to Dad and I or to stay where you were…wherever that was." Dean glanced uncomfortably over at his brother and immediately became concerned as he noticed how pale Sam's face had gotten. "Sammy…"

"I'm fine, Dean…I'm just trying to understand this," Sam interrupted.

"I know…I still don't understand, but you made the right decision 'cause here you are," Dean said.

"But, what if I wouldn't have made the right decision?"

"Uh…it doesn't matter…you did so how about we drop it."

"You started this, Dean. What would have happened? Would I have died?"

"Sammy…I don't...I…yes…she said you would've died," Dean answered, a knot forming in his stomach at the thought of his brother dying.

Sam sat back turned his gaze out the front window. "So," he spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Where was I that I had to decide to come back from? Did she say?"

Dean shook his head and swallowed deeply before answering. "No…she just said that you were somewhere between the living world and the other side…I guess that's what she meant anyway."

"Oh," Sam said before falling silent. Dean glanced over and could see that the conversation had left his brother distressed even though the teen was obviously fighting to keep his distress hidden.

"Sammy…it all worked out. You came back to us. Jenny said to talk to you as much as possible so that you would possibly hear and know that we wanted you back so badly," Dean said. "I was so worried because of what happened…I thought maybe you'd think that I didn't want you because of how badly I'd hurt you and…I was even afraid that if you heard my voice you wouldn't come back either, but you did…that's all that matters. You came back to us."

Sam looked over smiled sadly. "Dean, can I ask you something?" he softly asked.

"Yeah…sure, kiddo…what is it?" Dean answered.

"Wh-what would you have done if…if I didn't come back? If I had died?"

Dean sucked in a startled breath then let it out slowly. He glanced over at his brother and shook his head slightly. "I wouldn't have been far behind you, Sammy," he said in a tone so sad it brought tears to Sam's eyes.

"No, Dean…don't say that. You can't mean that," Sam said around the lump that had formed in his throat.

"I do mean it. You don't get it do you? If you had died, nobody would've been able to convince me that I hadn't been the one to kill you. I would never be able to live with the guilt, Sam. I'd never be able to live without you, no matter what. You are the most important thing in my life…nothing is more important, not even Dad, and if you…if I had lost you…well, there wouldn't have been much reason for me to stick around," Dean said emphatically as his fingers curled around the steering wheel of the Impala in a death grip.

"Dean…I…"

"There's no me without you, Sammy…it's you and me, kiddo…get used to it."

Sam couldn't help the smile that formed on his lips as the glanced over at his brother. "'kay, Dean…you and me. I guess that means I better stick around huh?"

Dean chuckled, happy to be seeing a shift in the tension that had been tightening his shoulders. "You bet your ass you better stick around 'cause if you don't, I'll come after you and kick your ass from here to next Christmas! And if you ever mention what I just said to anybody I'll…I'll kick your ass for that too!"

"Got it…my lips are sealed," Sam said with a grin.

"Good."

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"There's no me without you."

"You just wait you little bitch…I'm so kicking your ass once you're all healed up."

"Yeah you will," Sam chuckled, his laughter filling the car and the heart of the brother would die for him.

Dean smiled to himself, the sound of his brother's laughter lifting the weight that had been firmly planted on his shoulders and leaving him feeling as though finally the tides had really turned in their favor, at least for the time being. He glanced over and soon he was laughing too and at that moment nothing else mattered except the bond between two brothers…a bond that may be bent and battered at times, but never, ever broken.

**THE END**

**Well, that's it folks. I really hope you enjoyed the ending. Time to finish the stories I'm still working on and guess what...I already have an idea for another story...but, that will be a ways down the line. I won't start it until the other two are done. Love to you all :D**

**Cindy**


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